It's Not That Simple
by Wolf and Phoenix
Summary: After the gender reveal party, Allie talks to Kurt about Jane. The tattooed amnesiac did save her life, so the US Marshal feels the need to return the favour.
1. A Small Favour, Or So It Seems

**A/N: Okay, I know it's been months since I've been active. Two finales have gone by as well, though last night's was pretty epic. Anyway, this'll be a oneshot, unless anyone reading right now wants another chapter. Leave a comment about that, and I'll put another one up!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Blindspot. There's no way I'm a genius like the writers.**

"Kurt, why don't you just forgive her?" Allie asked him boldly after the party. Everyone had left already, chattering happily and wishing her luck with her pregnancy.

Kurt simply stared at her, pausing in picking up a few napkins. The guests had cleaned up as best they could after themselves, of course, but some things just slip by their notice. After all, it's not like they're professional cleaners or anything.

"Kurt?" Allie pressed, sweeping pink crumbs from the counter and into a garbage bag.

"Allie," Kurt murmured gruffly, "it's not that simple."

Apparently disagreeing with a pregnant woman wasn't the best choice.

"What do you mean, 'it's not that simple'?" Allie demanded. "Kurt, she saved me and, by extension, saved our _kid_. I understand that she's done a few things that hurt you and the team, but she was trying to protect. Jane's not the kind of person who would stand by on the sidelines if someone was in danger, especially her team."

"She betrayed me and the team in the worst way possible, A," Kurt interjected, trying to diffuse the US Marshal's temper.

" _So?!_ As far as I've seen, she's been working her butt off doing God knows whatever you're into, risking her life daily. I know that you and the team are hurt by her betrayal, but this is still the Jane you knew months ago. The same Jane who wouldn't hesitate to forgive and trust one of you again if you did the same thing." Granted, Jane would probably hesitate for a little while, but that's beside the point. Allie knew that the amnesiac would try and mend that broken trust as soon as possible.

Kurt remained silent, waiting for Allie to finish. Interrupting, as he just tried to do, would only make it worse. To keep his hands busy, he continued picking up the napkins.

"Kurt."

The alpha male raised his blue eyes to hers.

"Kurt," Allie continued softly, "have you looked at Jane closely recently?" Judging by the look on his face, he probably hadn't. "She has dark circles under her eyes, and she's way too thin to be healthy. She's been impacted by these last few months more than any of you have, and you know it, Kurt. You _know_ Jane's probably been beating herself up over her actions and losing the trust of you and the team. Plus she's been in a CIA blacksite for three months. What do you think they did in there?" She hadn't meant for the last bit to sound sarcastic, but if that's what kicked Kurt into action, then all the better.

"Jane's situation isn't something that we come across daily," Kurt started wearily, depositing napkins into the garbage bag in Allie's hand. "The team's beginning to warm up a little to her again, but that's going to take a lot of time. Jane's not...She's not the same exact Jane, Allie. She's more hardened, more determined. Not the empathetic Jane we knew when she first came out of that bag."

Allie silently sighed in frustration. Jane had pretty much saved her life, and she'd be damned if she didn't return the favour. Kurt was making that really difficult.

"You need to understand what it's like to be Jane right now, Kurt. We all know that no one's going to be able to come out of a blacksite and be fine. But Jane...I'm worried about her. There's a resigned air around her, as if she knows that she won't survive. Like she's given up. Have you ever known Jane to give up?" Allie pleaded. "She's running on autopilot, Assistant Director, and you're telling me you haven't noticed?"

Kurt started when he heard that, taking the garbage bag from Allie and continuing his cleanup. No, he actually hadn't noticed. Or rather, he hadn't cared. Jane had been coming in every day, and as long as she was able to do her job, he deemed she was fine. He ignored the little voices in his head that told him she wasn't, simply brushing it off as lingering feelings for the tattooed woman. Now that Allie brought it up, he knew that the voices inside his head were right. His instincts don't fail him very often, Mayfair said so herself. How much damage could he have prevented if he had just asked Jane how she was doing?

He watched as his brain replayed memories of his treatment of Jane, watched as he sent glares toward her at every possible moment, watched as he said that he didn't want to be in the same room as her. Kurt hated himself at that moment. He wanted to take back all those words, but he couldn't. The least he could do would be to make sure Jane's alright.

 _But she_ betrayed _you! She killed Mayfair!_ A voice inside his head screamed.

 _Maybe she did,_ his rational side taking over, _but you_ know _Jane. You know she wouldn't do anything like that without a reason._

 _I used to know her,_ his irrational voice said. _Not anymore._

 _She's blaming herself already, you idiot. It's clear as day. You at least don't have to add to it. Besides, you're the Assistant Director and team leader. Don't set an example for all of the other team members, don't make them think that they have to only tolerate Jane because_ you _only tolerate Jane,_ his rational voice reasoned calmly.

Allie could see Kurt alternating between feelings of remorse, regret, and slight anger. She sighed, using a damp cloth to wipe the tables and counters down. Jane and Kurt never had it easy. Between her own pregnancy and whatever was going on with Nas, she thought it was a miracle Jane's feelings held out. The fleeting hurt on the other woman's face when she had found out that Allie was pregnant was heartbreaking, and the US Marshal wondered if Kurt's feelings for Jane still held out, too.

"I'm not gonna lie and say I have, A," Kurt broke the silence that had engulfed them, holding the plastic bag so tightly Allie thought he was going to disintegrate it. "But Jane knows her limits. Not that she doesn't need someone checking up on her now and then, but she's a big girl. She can handle herself."

 _Well,_ Allie thought, _that's a far cry from what he was doing a few months ago. Whether he was unconsciously doing it or not, even Rich Dotcom picked up on it._ "Can she, Kurt? Jane went through CIA torture. Anything compared to that might seem like a slight annoyance."

"Alright, look," Kurt began placatingly, "I'll talk to her tomorrow. Check up on her, make sure she's doing okay." He felt pretty horrible, almost wanting to throw up. Would he have let this continue if Allie hadn't said anything? He hadn't even bothered to evaluate Jane's mental health, let alone her physical health. God, what had he done?

"You should have done that weeks ago."

"I know I should have, Allie." Kurt ran his free hand through his hair. "I know."

Allie's eyes softened. "You're human, Kurt. Bound to make mistakes. Don't beat yourself up over this.

The look in those blue eyes said it all. His next words were unnecessary. "I should be beating myself up over this. If it was Jane in my place, and me in hers, she would have checked up on me. I failed her, Allie, just like I failed her so many months ago, when Carter tortured her."

"You didn't fail her, Kurt, and you won't if you go make sure she's okay." Allie's voice was soothing and quiet as she dropped the washcloth in the sink. Kurt joined her at the counter, depositing the black plastic bag in his hand into the garbage can.

Silence surrounded both of them as they surveyed the spotless living space.

"Thanks, Allie," Kurt's quiet voice shattered the peaceful quiet.

Allie inwardly smiled. Looks like she'll be able to return the favour after all.

"You're welcome, Kurt. Make sure she's okay."

 **A/N: Hope it's okay! There were some issues with formatting, so please excuse any weird mistakes. Otherwise, all mistakes are mine. As usual, feel free to leave a review!**


	2. It Seems Innocent, For All It Dreams

**A/N: So many reviews and favourites and follows! It makes me feel so very happy ;) On another note, I happened to notice that my last chapter was all bolded, so hopefully it'll be fixed as soon as I post this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Blindspot, and never will.**

 _Allie had a point,_ Kurt thought as he drove. _Jane's not invincible._ He had awoken, as usual, before the sun came up. Nas seemed to have done the same thing, texting him as soon as he had gotten out of bed, inviting him to grab a coffee with her. It was a bit uncanny, the way she seemed to know exactly when he was in the mood to respond. If anyone had texted him earlier or later, he probably would have ignored it. Sleep, showering and breakfast are important, after all.

What shook Kurt the most was the fact that she seemed to know that he desperately needed coffee. Good coffee, the kind that came out of coffee shops across from his apartment. He remembered mentioning to Allie right before they both went their separate ways after the party that he was going to that coffee shop in the morning. He had offered to pick a muffin up for her, to which she declined, saying that he should pick up a muffin for Jane instead. Besides, she didn't know what was in those muffins.

How did Nas know he needed that particular coffee? Was it coincidence? Or did she just read him better than most? It wasn't a total secret that he liked the coffee from that shop, but he hadn't really shared that with anyone, other than his team. And that was only because they each went on coffee runs for each other. Turned out pretty much everyone liked that coffee shop, including Jane. Kurt hadn't shared that with Nas, though, and he knew that his team was rather tight-lipped about anything that went on between the four of them (well, five, once Jane had joined them).

 _Never mind any of that,_ his rational voice spoke. _Focus on meeting Jane right now. What the hell are you going to say to her?_

 _That's a good question,_ Kurt mused as he carefully parked his car. _There's no time to write a script, so I guess I'll just have to wing it._

 _Oh, yeah, because that's going to go_ so _well,_ his rational side said sarcastically.

Kurt blocked out that voice and knocked on Jane's door. And waited.

Waited, as the seconds stretched out into minutes.

Waited, as his heart jumped erratically.

Finally, she opened the door, eyes going wide at the sight of him standing on her doorstep. He could understand her surprise - he hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming of people towards her.

The surprise was then quickly and carefully sealed away, a neutral mask overtaking her features. "Weller."

Kurt tilted his head. "Jane."

The moments that followed were incredibly awkward. Kurt didn't want to make her think that he had been forced to come here, to check on her wellbeing. _Honestly, did it come down to this?_ Kurt questioned, inwardly cursing himself.

Finally, Jane broke the silence. "I guess you should come in." She moved aside, and Kurt stepped into her living room, disorientated by the blank canvas of wall. No sketches, no drawings, not even pictures of her tattooes. _She doesn't have a sketchbook anymore,_ he realized. _It was confiscated. Hell,_ I _confiscated it._ I _took it from her._

"So what are you doing here at -" Jane paused as she looked at her watch "- five thirty in the morning?" Granted, she didn't really mind him being there, seeing as it got a little lonely in the mornings. No one around here was typically up at this time, probably because they didn't have ridiculous hours like she and Kurt did. Then again, not a ton of people become FBI agents. Critical response agents, to be exact.

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Wanted to check up on you."

Jane stared at him, incredulous. "And that was the reason you're here?"

Kurt marveled at her ability to be vibrant and energized, given what she had gone through. "Well, uh, I realized that I hadn't checked up on you, so, uh, here I am." _Well done, Weller, really well done._

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Okay. I'm fine, Kurt, you can go back to sleep or whatever you were doing." Her gaze moved from his eyes to the floor, her whole body slightly aching from the chill outside. Although it had been some time since she had been tortured, her body was still catching up. _Weller left you there._

 _No, he didn't. He didn't know._

 _Did he?_

Part of Kurt screamed at him for neglecting her for so long. Another part shattered, unable to comprehend that Jane thought so low of herself.

"Jane."

She looked up, green eyes indicating that he should continue. He hesitated, thinking over the words before he said, "I'm not here because I was ordered to. I came here because I realized I was being a horrible person to you, and after everything you've been through, I felt that I shouldn't've added to the stress you've been under."

Jane's eyes softened. "Kurt, I'm fine. You were hurt by me, and I understand why you did what you did." She understood, she really did. But the words she said were mostly out of reassuring Kurt. A small part of her, the part that was Remi, held a great feeling of resentment, betrayal, and hurt.

He murmured to her, "My actions weren't justifiable, Jane, and you know it."

She was already shaking her head before he had even finished the sentence. "No, they were completely within reason. _I_ betrayed you. _I_ killed Mayfair. _I_ pretended to be Taylor Shaw. I hit every single important person, event, and value in your life. Don't pretend everything's okay, Weller, because it's not." _And you also sent me to that hellhole, so don't pretend everything's okay._ That was Remi.

Maybe it was the last ringing sentence that incapacitated Kurt's heart. Maybe it was the use of his last name that shattered his heart. Or maybe it was the shocking certainty behind her words that delivered the final blow to his heart. He would never know, but all he knew was that she was completely wrong, yet right at the same time. She did try to be Taylor, she did kill Mayfair, and she did betray him. But that didn't mean everything was going to be horrible forever.

"You know that's not true, Jane, it _will_ get better. It _will_ be okay. Just give us all some time," Kurt pleaded.

Jane sighed, multiple thoughts running through her head. Why was he here? She knew that he was telling the truth, but she sensed a second intention. _Old habits from the CIA die hard,_ she thought wryly.

"I don't blame you, Jane. Not now. I understand why you did what you did, and I would have done the exact same thing," Kurt said. "I'd never thought I'd say this three months ago, but I forgive you, Jane."

"Don't just say that to make me feel better, Kurt." Jane looked up at him, a sardonic smirk tugging on her lips. _Don't just say that to try and amend your actions, Weller. You sent me through months of hell, whether you know it or not._

"I'm not just saying that, Jane." Kurt wondered how everything spiralled down to rock bottom. "I really forgive you."

The whole conversation was to overwhelming to her at the moment. So, she filed it away, carefully, resolving to think about it later when she had another sleepless night. It wasn't like she didn't get sleep, anyway. But it was just that she hated waking up, when she was reminded of reality, and hated sleeping because she had learned at the blacksite that someone could do indescribable things to you when you're asleep, like torture. So, she avoided sleep. Only a couple hours at the very most, when she could float in oblivion, peaceful, enough sleep to keep her going but not enough to make her feel uneasy when she woke up.

Then again, nightmares sometimes drove her away, too. Those only happened on the nights when she couldn't place herself inside her little retreat, carefully crafted after months of CIA torture. She didn't let it happen voluntarily, those nightmares, and when she woke up from those night terrors, it felt like she hadn't gotten any rest at all, more like the opposite.

Kurt watched Jane deep in her thoughts. Clearly she didn't want to talk about the topic anymore. "Jane?"

Jane snapped out of her state and focused on him, eyes flicking from the floor to his face.

"Jane, are you eating? Sleeping?" Kurt's voice was gruff.

The amnesiac looked at him somewhat oddly before replying, "Yeah. No need to be worried, Weller." _Why exactly do you suddenly care, anyway?_

"What exactly are you eating?" Kurt pressed.

"Uh, just some takeouts and fruit and stuff," Jane answered, viridian eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why?"

"You need good food to be healthy, Jane. Look, I get that you can't cook," Kurt held up a hand to stop the inevitable protest, "but at least let someone teach you something about cooking. You're not gonna get anywhere with what you're currently eating."

Jane stared at him. "Um, sure, I guess," she mumbled. In truth, eating takeout was getting a little expensive.

 _One down, one more to go._ "And how are you sleeping?" Kurt questioned lightly.

"Fine." A short answer, not enough to give anything away. _Better than you, I bet._

Kurt raised an eyebrow, but knew not to press for more details. Maybe later. "Alright, whatever you say. See you at work?"

Jane wasn't really expecting him to drop the subject so quickly, but nodded and answered, "Yeah."

The corners of Kurt's mouth tugged into a half-smile. He turned to the door, pushing it open and stepping into the cool, fresh air. Snapping the door behind him closed, he walked to his parked car. Maybe he should buy a sketchbook for Jane…

Kurt shook his head. He'll think about it later. Right now, he needed to get to that coffee shop, meet with Nas.

His phone buzzed as he got into the driver's seat. Fishing it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen. It was a text from Allie.

" _Did you go and check on her?"_

" _Yeah."_ Kurt texted back. " _She's okay."_

"' _She's okay'? You didn't just go up, tell her you've forgiven her, asked her how she was eating, how she was sleeping, then left, did you?"_

Kurt paused. _Shit. How did she know? There wasn't anything wrong with that, was there?_

Allie interpreted his silence correctly, " _You did, didn't you? God, Kurt, you're an idiot."_

" _What was I supposed to say?"_

" _At least take it slowly. Don't just suddenly say, 'oh, I forgive you, now everything's okay', because that's bullshit, and even Jane would know. Oh, wait, since you probably told her that, Jane called you out on that, didn't she?"_

" _Well, maybe."_

" _You know what, Kurt, call me once you've got your head screwed on right. Otherwise, don't bother texting me. And then you can spend the time with Nas. Goddamn it, Kurt, what the hell is wrong with you? First me, then Jane, then Nas. Is there something with government agents that attracts you to them? Get your shit together, figure out who you really need in your life."_

To say Kurt was stunned would be the understatement of the year. He was shocked silent, holding his phone loosely in his right hand. Allie had just…

" _Why are you suddenly so passionate about Jane and I?"_ He furiously texted back.

" _Because, Kurt, you need to realize the way you're treating her. I don't care if I'm sarcastic or if I need to curse you out, anything works if it kicks you back into reality. Even I can see how cold you and your team are to her. She's trying, Kurt, and everyday she's struck down."_

Kurt digested her words. Jane really had been trying, hadn't she? He and the team had just struck her down so many times she was starting to give up. And he knew Jane never gave up.

Just how much more could she take before she broke?

 **A/N: I think Allie's a bit out of character here. Maybe. But I like her better this way. Agree? No? As always, feel free to leave a review and thanks to the people who did, and also followed and favourited. Thank you!**


	3. But Dreams Cry, For Betrayal Beams

**A/N: Imagine my surprise when I logged in today to post this chapter to find that the number of reviews practically doubled! And so many more people followed and favourited too! Glad you guys are enjoying this story - my updates will probably be coming a little slower due to school. And life. Anyway, I don't think you're here to read a rant, so I'll just cut this off here.**

 **There's a bit of content that might be slightly disturbing in this chapter. You have been warned.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot, and I never will.**

Kurt rode up the elevator with Nas beside him, each clutching identical cups of coffee. Turned out she loved that little coffee shop too. How she knew about that place, he didn't know, but at least he had company while waiting in line. That reminded him; he needed to give that blueberry muffin to Jane.

Stepping out of the elevator leaving Nas behind, Kurt stepped into the organized chaos of his workplace. He made a beeline to his office, completely missing the knowing look Zapata had on her face. Had he been looking closely, he would have noticed that nearly everyone on his team had looked up at his arrival, seeing him with Nas and holding identical cups. Of course, he hadn't been.

No, what he _had_ noticed was that Jane wasn't there. In fact, it looked like she hadn't come to work at all. That in itself was extremely odd; she had been up at the crack of dawn, for the gods' sake, giving her plenty of time to get here. He left the bagged muffin on his desk; maybe once she came in he'd give it to her.

His gut was screaming at him that something was wrong, screaming at him to go find Patterson and ask her to trace Jane's phone or check any security cameras or just do _something_ to make sure Jane was okay.

Kurt ignored it. He had mountains of paperwork to get through. Besides, Jane could take care of herself, even when Sandstorm was involved.

It wasn't until Patterson received Jane's call that he knew he should have trusted his gut. After all, his gut was rarely ever wrong - how else could he have gotten out of close-call situations?

"They look like blueprints for something," Jane informed them, the sound of rifling papers coming to their ears.

"I - oh, wait, Jane, did you send some pictures?" Patterson asks, grabbing her phone.

"Yes, yes, did you get them? They were taking forever and I thought you wouldn't get them in time," Jane sighed in relief. "They finally let me see their compound. It looks like all of Sandstorm's here."

"There's a huge water tower nearby and it smells like, uh, pennies?" Jane murmured after a moment's pause. "And -" Jane's voice abruptly cuts off.

"Jane? _Jane?_ " Patterson asks worriedly, bringing up the photos on her phone.

"Jane. Can you hear us?" Kurt demanded, body rigid.

"The call didn't disconnect, did it?" Nas asked.

"No, no, it's still live," Patterson answered. She was about to call Jane's name again when she heard something from the line. "Hang on; do you guys hear that?"

They all listened carefully. A tapping sound was coming from Jane's end. Not random tapping, but a rhythmic tapping.

"Morse Code," Zapata murmured. "Shepherd must have come back."

Patterson nodded, already at work trying to decipher the code. "It's a really long message…" She listened, fingers tapping away at her tablet. "Got it. She's saying, 'Phase 2 is destroying the power grid of America. Not sure if I should trust intel from Shepherd. Set up may be possible.'" Eyes wide, she glanced at the rest of the team, ending the call.

"We can't afford to sit back on this intel," Nas recovered first. "If what Shepherd says is true, thousands of people are going to die. We aren't going to take that chance."

"And what if this is all a set up?" Zapata asked. "Thousands of people might not die, but numerous FBI agents could die. This isn't a heads or tails kind of decision; this is life or death. We either save and potentially live or we don't save and we don't live to save people in the future."

"We have no choice. There is no way I'm going to sit back and not act on this intel," Nas justified, eyes moving from one team member to the other.

"Nas is right. We have no choice. Shepherd took that from us. We all knew what we were signing up for when we first applied for these jobs, the life or death situations. If this is a set up, we're going to give them hell for as long as possible. Suit up," Kurt ordered.

The determined look in each of his coworkers' eyes unsettled him more than he thought it ever would. _Then again,_ Kurt thought as he rushed down to the armory after alerting every available agent about the situation, _these aren't my coworkers. These are friends, family._

After every agent had appeared in the bullpen, Kurt began, "I want Jane, Shepherd, and Roman alive. Everyone stay online, listen for Patterson. If anyone gets wind that this is a set up, alert everyone else and get out of there. Stay undetected for as long as possible, make sure that the group does not follow through with their plan. The people of America are depending on you." With that, he nodded for them all to get moving. He was about to follow them when his phone rang.

"Weller," he answered.

"Kurt, this is Connor, Allie's boyfriend," a voice greeted him.

Kurt glanced at the caller ID. "Why are you calling me from a hospital?"

"Allie - she's been in a terrible car accident, they said that _your_ baby might not make it. You need to get down here now," the frantic male voice said.

"I'll be there," Kurt promised as he disconnected, mind going crazy with worry. "Allie - she's been in a car accident."

"Oh my God, is she okay?" Zapata asked, pausing just outside the elevator.

"I don't know," Kurt's voice was gruff. Allie was important, but this mission was...

"Go," Zapata told him, making the decision for him.

He ran to his car, slipping off his vest, and sped to the hospital, heart pounding. It wasn't until he realized that Allie was fine, that she was at home the whole time, that this whole thing was a set up.

 _Shit. Jane was right, we shouldn't have trusted Shepherd's intel. How did Shepherd know Jane was on our side?_ Kurt shook those thoughts away. He needed to get in touch with Patterson.

"Patterson, we need to abort the mission," Kurt ordered as soon as he got into his car. "This was all a set up."

"Weller, we can't. Everyone's inside already," Patterson answered.

"Tell them to get out. I'll be there in a few minutes; if Jane, Shepherd, or Roman make it out of the building, grab them." He really needed to file for an earpiece that could handle a huge network; currently he was using one that only connected him to Patterson. "Send emergency crews, paramedics, backup.

"Got it," she replied.

As Kurt raced to the compound, he wondered what would become of Jane. Shepherd must have found out about her loyalties, and from what Sandstorm was planning to do, he knew that the punishment would be horrendous. Though, he supposed, Sandstorm wasn't going to destroy the power grid - yet. If this was their fake plan, he shuddered to think what their real plan was.

He got there in record time - only to find that the compound was in flames and huge chunks of building were torn off. It was as if a dragon had barreled into the building while spraying flames everywhere. Some agents hadn't been quick enough to get out, their bodies lying on top of the rubble, blood pouring from their wounds. Rust coloured liquid covered virtually every surface, even though not even half of the agents were dead. The smell of pennies was definitely in the air, intensified by the spilled blood. Kurt checked the pulse of each agent down, making sure they were dead and not injured, before trying to find his team.

He found Zapata sitting on a piece of rock, bruised, face ashen, a deep cut running down the side of her face. "Where's everyone else? Reade? Nas? Jane?"

"Reade was knocked out by a falling rock over there. He was pinned down by a piece of rock," Zapata pointed out to him. "Nas got him out, but his leg is bleeding really badly. He'll need treatment in the next hour or he'll lose that leg."

Kurt nodded. "Crews and backup are on their way. Any sign of Jane?"

Zapata shook her head. "We think she was with Roman and Shepherd in the heart of the building. It probably hasn't fallen in yet, but it will soon."

"Okay." Kurt's heart sunk as he moved away from Tasha and went through the wreckage, bodies, and blood. It was a carnage.

A set up.

Since when did he ever doubt Jane's instincts? A team member's instincts? There were so many other ways, but they decided on a full-on assault. He knew they should have verified the intel before deciding on an assault, but as Nas had said, they had no choice.

Hang on, since when did he trust Nas so much?

Kurt nearly walked into a pillar. Since when _did_ he trust Nas so much? Even though Jane had well-placed concerns, he ignored those and went with Nas's idea. He _knew_ how good Jane's instincts were; impeccable, better than his. They could have avoided so much carnage if he had just listened to her…

Suddenly, he paused. A glimpse of raven hair flashed in the corner of his eye. He turned, and saw a pale figure darting through the debris, dragging a reluctant man behind her. _Jane and Roman._

He burst into a sprint, rushing toward Jane and her brother, when Roman broke free of Jane's grip and began to run away. Jane called after him desperately, moving to follow him, but the tone of his answer kept her in place. She turned away, despair radiating from her.

"Jane!" Kurt yelled. She looked in his direction. He caught up with her, breathing hard, asking, "Are you okay?" When she sent him a glare, he hurriedly added, "Physically."

"Fine." That one word was so hollow it broke his heart. Haunted green eyes stared at the ground, raven hair guarding her face.

"Jane. What happened here, was my fault," Kurt murmured. He suspected she hated herself for bringing death to more people.

"How was it yours?" She hadn't meant for it to come out fiery, but it had. "How was it, Kurt? _I_ gave you the intel. _I_ was the one who betrayed Shepherd, causing this carnage." She was near tears, voice almost cracking at the end. Jane composed herself, shoving her emotions aside for the moment. "So explain to me, Kurt, how this was _your_ fault. And while we're at it, explain to me why you give yourself such a hard time when clearly, I'm your scapegoat. _I'm_ your lamb to the slaughter. _You're_ the one who's supposed to be in love with Nas and living a good life. After all, that's what you've been indirectly saying to me, isn't it?" Jane's green eyes burned with fire, eerily glowing. "Don't pretend it isn't. I'm nothing but a tool to you now, to be used and then to be thrown away."

Kurt stared at her. He hadn't been doing that, had he?

"They say that dreams can come true," Jane whispered. "But in my story, they can't." And with that, she walked away, intending to hotwire a car to get back to her safe house. No matter how much she knew Kurt hated her, she knew that she still had to take down Sandstorm.

Besides, Remi hated Kurt back.

 **A/N: Hope this chapter was okay! I did try to make the dialogue as accurate as possible to the fall finale, but I don't have a perfect memory. Sorry about that. (And, also, I probably won't update for a few days, so guess you'll have to live with this ending for now.) I know, I know, I didn't have Allie in this chapter, even though she's probably the best character in this story. Kurt is a douchebag, so he hasn't called her yet. Maybe next chapter. He does need someone to talk to, after all. Feel free to leave a review!**

 **~Wolf and Phoenix**


	4. And Betrayal Ducks, As Bullets Scream

**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot.**

 _Buzz._

Jane glanced at her phone, tossed face-down on the kitchen counter. Deciding to ignore it, she turned back to staring at the blank, parchment-like wall in front of her.

 _Buzz._

 _Is life that cruel to me to not even grant me an hour of brooding?_ It hadn't even been an hour since she had left the carnage of the former Sandstorm compound. Sighing, Jane figured that she should just reply to whoever was sending her texts. Maybe then they would shut up. She supposed that brooding was going to have to wait for now, unfortunately. And to think she had even prepared a glass of water this time - last time she brooded, dehydration had taken its toll. Turned out she had stared at the wall, unmoving, for a whole 24 hours on one of the team's days off. Jane (and Remi) had bitterly regretted letting that happen, resulting in snappish mental retorts, which, in turn, resulted in a headache. That headache certainly didn't get any better the next day, when Rich Dotcom had come calling.

Talk about consequences for your actions.

Jane shook her head as she crossed the room to the kitchen, her phone vibrating almost every ten seconds. She was 99 percent sure it wasn't Weller, Reade, or Zapata. That lone one percent was the tiny part of her that still hoped for forgiveness, even though Jane herself had accepted that what she did was unforgivable. Besides, it's not everyday that a tattooed woman becomes an FBI asset, a team member, a murderer, a captive of the CIA, then a captive of the FBI. Whoever dictated life out there was sure having a good laugh, twisting reality so much that Jane sometimes wondered if she was in limbo. Of course, if this was limbo, she really didn't want to wake up and face reality.

The tattooed woman picked up her phone, eyeing it warily. She briefly debated on turning the phone off, then decided that doing that would be frowned upon. Her...acquaintances at the FBI wouldn't like that. They'd think she went off the grid or something.

She watched the screen light up as yet another text reached her phone. It was an unknown number.

 _Great, now I've got a psychopath stalking me_ , Remi thought sardonically.

Curious, Jane unlocked her phone and scrolled through her messages, scanning the texts. They didn't seem to make any sense. That was until she hit the very first text from that unknown number that read, " _Hey Jane, it's Allie. Patterson gave me your number."_

Allie.

Allie, the one that was carrying Weller's kid. Allie, the one who had picked up on whatever had been happening between her and Weller when the US Marshal had been dating Weller. Allie, the one that she thought would hate her the most (well, after Weller).

Suspicion entered her thoughts. Since when did _Allie_ , of all people, want to talk to _her_? Her, the one that had disarmed Kurt within a few months. Her, the one that had nearly gotten Allie and the baby killed.

Since when did government agents voluntarily text FBI assets-turned-traitor?

 _There's something called being voluntold,_ Remi interjected sarcastically.

 _And there's something called being quiet,_ Jane retorted.

Jane supposed that her state of mind wasn't exactly sound, and that if anyone were to find out, she would have been sent to a mental illness hospital. Of course, she would fight them tooth and nail...On second thought, doing that might make them think she's more crazy. Besides, Remi _was_ her, and Jane _is_ her. Each 'person' just came with a bunch of different instincts. Maybe it was a side effect of the ZIP. Besides, it's not like Remi was some crazy alternate personality - on the contrary, she saved Jane's life a number of times.

 _Thirty-two and counting,_ Remi added mentally.

 _I get that you're smug. Now be quiet,_ Jane snapped.

 _Look who's snappy today,_ Remi replied.

The former Navy SEAL scrolled to Allie's most recent text: " _I'm getting the feeling you don't want to talk to anyone, Jane. All I'm asking is if you want to get a coffee at the coffee shop across from Kurt's apartment. Besides, Kurt'll flip if he sees me there alone. Please?"_

Jane sighed. Getting coffee with Allie wasn't going to kill her. Sure, there might be some animosity between them, the fact that Jane almost got Allie killed, killed Kurt - the one Allie loved, or used to love - emotionally, and then, of course, there's the issue of the baby. But it shouldn't be too bad, right? Allie seemed like she was offering an olive branch to her, a way to start over.

 _Optimist,_ Remi grumbled.

 _Pessimist,_ Jane shot back.

 _Realist,_ Remi countered.

Rolling her eyes at herself (she decided not to think too much about that action), she tapped the message box and replied to Allie.

" _Sure, coffee sounds great tomorrow. How'd you know I liked that coffee shop?"_

A few minutes away, Allie smiled as she read Jane's text. Maybe there was some hope for them to talk after all. " _Lucky guess. Everyone on Kurt's team likes that coffee shop; figured you would either follow the status quo or at least be used to the coffee."_

" _Right on both counts,"_ Jane replied. She paused for a second. Was caffeine bad for the baby? She was pretty sure it was, but it wasn't like she had experience in that field. " _Is coffee bad for the baby?"_

Allie grinned, heart warming from the concern. Jane was still Jane, after all. " _It's not particularly good. I might just get a vegan breakfast fruit and oatmeal tart."_

Jane nodded. She had been planning on ordered some breakfast too. " _Sounds good. They have a really good bakery there, huh?"_

" _It's killer,_ Allie responded. " _Would go there every day if it weren't for the fact that I would use up my whole salary._

" _Anyway, I'm not holding you from anything, am I? There's nothing to do other than watch TV, and I figured you could use someone to talk to."_ There. Allie laid most of her cards out on the table, and waited for a response.

" _No, you're not. I was preparing to stare at a wall, if that counts,"_ Jane answered. It shocked her how brutally honest she was with Allie, a person who was almost a complete stranger. She didn't even share her brooding sessions with Patterson or Borden, who were the only ones who talked to her for no reason during the day. Jane thought that it was because the two were a couple, and that Patterson and Borden had decided to double-team her, try to get her to open up. Of course, she told them little bits and pieces of her life back at the FBI, but she never told them something trivial yet personal like this.

Not a lot of people knew Patterson and Borden were together, but not a lot of people watched the two, anyway. Jane only knew because she had accidentally walked in on them before her appointment with Borden. They didn't see her, thankfully, but Jane had learned not to show up for the first appointment of a day half an hour early.

" _That sounds really entertaining_ ," Allie quipped. She wasn't exactly startled by Jane's planned activity - being pregnant with Kurt Weller's child made it easy to relate to - but she was startled by the easy admission of the activity. The US Marshal was pretty sure that the tattooed amnesiac didn't give away personal information easily; it was one of the only personal things she had left. After all, the FBI had basically scanned every inch of her body and pried into her mind. Allie couldn't blame her for keeping her personal information close.

" _Nothing better than your thoughts keeping you company,"_ Jane added.

Allie snorted. " _Please, tell me about it._ _Being pregnant with one Kurt Weller's child comes with the whole package - boredom, staring, thoughts, you name it."_

" _Glad to know I'm not alone."_

" _You're definitely not. How's work, by the way? Anything interesting?"_

Jane frowned a little, a thought coming to her. " _Weller isn't asking you to check up on me, is he?"_

Allie almost choked when she read that sentence. " _If he did, I would have kicked his ass, pregnant or not. He's being a jackass right now, so I told him to call me once he's got his head screwed on right."_ Did Kurt really mess up that badly? It shouldn't have been hard, checking up on Jane, but apparently he had a bit of trouble.

" _What'd he do?"_

Allie sighed. How was she supposed to explain that she and Kurt had an argument over Jane's wellbeing? " _Everything and nothing."_

" _That's...cryptic."_

" _Best I could do."_

There was a pause as Jane considered what to say. Humour, she decided, was the best option. She intended to keep things light - no use in bringing up heavy topics. " _Is that what pregnancy does to you?"_

Allie laughed, grinning when she saw Jane's response. Kurt's team clearly hadn't seen the sense of humour in Jane. " _Nope. It does a whole lot worse."_

" _Really? Mental note to self: do not get pregnant."_

" _Hey! Pregnant woman here."_

Jane rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips. It felt good to be talking to someone. Even Remi had shut up. " _How's_ your _work?"_

" _Nothing interesting, unlike you guys. Come on, it's not fair. You guys get all the fun cases,"_ Allie replied, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

" _Says the one who doesn't get shot at regularly."_

" _What's fun without a little danger?"_

" _Like life-on-the-line danger?"_ Jane texted back snarkily.

" _Okay, okay, Jane Doe, I get it. Well played."_

Jane smiled, a strange sense of victory surging through her veins. It wasn't even that well played, she knew, but it felt so good to have someone to joke around with. " _Thank you."_

There was a pause as Allie received a text from Kurt, reading, " _How's it going?"_

Allie deliberated between replying to Jane or Kurt. _Ah, screw Kurt. He probably hasn't screwed his head on right yet. He could have called me, too, if he had wanted to tell me he was seeing things right._ So, she ignored his texts and concentrated on Jane. The tattooed amnesiac needed her more than Kurt did.

" _Don't get too smug, Doe, you're going down in the next humour war."_ Allie smirked, imagining the looks on Kurt's team's faces if they walked into a humour war between her and Jane.

" _Try me, Knight."_

" _How about tomorrow morning? We can give it a go over tarts and coffee."_

" _Sure. See you tomorrow, then?"_

" _Need time to prepare, Jane?"_

" _Do you?"_

Allie had nothing to say to that, so she simply signed off with, " _Night, Jane."_

" _Night, Allie."_

 **A/N: I'm not terribly happy with this chapter, but I decided to put it up anyway. On top of that, there might be some formatting issues in this chapter, so I will fix them as they come to light. Allie's in this chapter, hopefully she'll cover me with her slight OOC-ness. She's awesomer this way, don't you think? Anyway, does anyone want Roman to make an appearance in this story or no? I'm leaning toward 'yes', but I'll listen to whatever you guys think! As always, feel free to drop a review, and thank you to the people who already reviewed, favourited, and followed!**

 **~Wolf and Phoenix**


	5. For Bullets Ream, And Damage The Seam

**A/N: *shrinks into corner***

 **Disclaimer: Blindspot is made of storytelling geniuses. I, unfortunately, am not a storytelling genius, so I obviously don't own Blindspot.**

Jane couldn't remember getting a better sleep. Talking with Allie (or texting, she supposed) seemed to have done wonders. Odd. Even Remi had become quieter and less sarcastic.

Methodically, she ran through her morning routine and was out the door by the time the sun came up. In one hand her keys dangled, and the other was busily texting one-handedly - a feat that Jane was rather proud of.

" _Hey, you ready to go?"_ Jane typed, opening her car door with her phone-less hand and getting in. A license had been the first thing she had gotten when she had come back to the FBI though they had been incredibly reluctant to consent. But it wasn't like she was going to run away - if she did, the deal would be over.

 _Forced back. Unwillingly. Blackmailed,_ Remi corrected. Jane mentally rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore that comment.

" _Yeah. Five minutes?"_ Allie responded quickly. The US Marshal took Jane's silence as a clue that the tattooed woman was driving. She got into her own car and maneuvered the early morning traffic.

True to her word, she arrived at the coffee shop in exactly five minutes. Jane was already there, seated at a table, dressed in all black.

"Honestly, Jane, you need to get more clothes. It looks like you're going to sneak into some place," Allie greeted Jane, gracefully dropping into the chair across from the other woman.

Jane's viridian eyes flicked to her from the menu. "You never know."

Allie smirked. "Figured out what you want?"

"Coffee," Jane answered almost automatically. Allie raised an eyebrow. "Conditioned reflex," Jane explained after she realized what she had said.

"Right. What do you actually want?" Allie questioned.

"A mango-pineapple-orange smoothie would actually be nice," Jane murmured. "I never knew they served that."

"Life's full of surprises," Allie quipped, running an eye down her own menu.

"You don't say." Jane tapped her fingers against the table as she debated on a muffin or a bagel. _Muffin,_ Remi nearly snarled. _Bagels are tasteless donuts._ Jane sighed, tempted to disagree, but Allie looked like she was ready to order. A mental argument was sure to raise flags.

The US Marshal waved a waiter over and requested a vegan oatmeal and fruit tart. Jane ordered a blueberry muffin and a medium mango-pineapple-orange smoothie. Allie glanced over at her as the waiter left. "You're not going to eat more than that?"

Jane met her gaze evenly. "I'm fine."

"You sure? I'm pretty sure you don't need to diet or anything," Allie said, brown eyes turning worried despite the joke.

"Yeah. I'm fine, Allie. Really," Jane assured her. "Shouldn't _you_ be eating more?"

"Kurt stopped by hours before the crack of dawn," Allie waved her off, "supplying me with enough food for days."

A small laugh made its way out of Jane. She hesitantly smiled at Allie, looking away quickly.

An awkward silence followed, before Allie broke it with a smile, "So how's work?"

"As crazy as you can imagine," Jane offered after a moment's pause to think.

Allie nodded. "And how's everyone?"

Jane sent her a confused look. "They're fine."

"I mean, how are they treating you?" Allie clarified, eyes turning dark when Jane hesitated.

 _Hatefully,_ Remi supplied. _Glaring, snarling wolves. They sent you to the CIA. They treated you coldly after they found out everything. Didn't even care that you tried to protect Weller._

 _Shut it,_ Jane hissed. _They had good reason to. I betrayed them, deceived them. It's not like_ you _would welcome a traitor, would you?_

Remi had nothing to say to that.

"They're...treating me as expected, I guess," Jane offered, shrugging it off. "Can't really expect kindness from them. But we're slowly getting used to each other again."

Allie's heart broke for the tattooed amnesiac. _Damn Kurt and his team._ "Well, that's good. You guys ever go out for drinks or something?"

Jane wanted to lie, say yes, say anything other than _no._ But Allie was in constant contact with the Assistant Director and leader of the team. There was no point. "No," she replied with a small laugh, trying to shrug it off - like it didn't bother her.

It hurt. A lot. The sudden distance between her and the team was like a knife to the heart, stabbing over and over as the wounds healed rapidly just so the knife could pierce again.

It made sense that they wouldn't invite her for drinks, Allie supposed, considering that the team pretty much hated Jane. Still, they could at least be objective. Then again, when it came to Weller and Jane, objectivity didn't exist. But the other members of the team could be objective, right? Maybe even Patterson…

"Vegan oatmeal and fruit tart, mango-pineapple-orange smoothie, and a blueberry muffin for you guys," a waitress cut in, setting down both of their orders. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," Allie and Jane chorused.

A silence ensued as they both ate. Jane was the one to break it, asking, "How's the baby?"

Allie smiled. "Great. She's doing well, nice and healthy."

Jane nodded. "That's good."

Frowning slightly, Allie paused in taking a bite. "Is this arrangement awkward, Jane?"

The other woman's head shot up. "Oh, um, no." Jane smiled, let out a small chuckle. "No, it's not."

 _Please, you're going to take that as an answer?_ Allie asked herself. _She's been through too much in her short memory span. Don't pretend and accept her answer. Ask her what's going on. Ask her, more importantly, about Weller._

Jane, oblivious to Allie's thoughts, eyed the US Marshal warily. _She's going to ask, isn't she?_

 _What do you think?_ Remi asked rhetorically. _Be careful, it may be a dig for information. Should have considered her acting spy for Weller. She easily breached your CIA defenses, and you think she's innocent? She's like you, the Trojan horse. Don't trust her. Don't trust any of them. They sent you to the CIA, didn't have a care for you, even though they knew what happened there._

 _They didn't know,_ Jane protested, robotically eating as she mentally conversed. _They had no idea. Besides, I don't blame them for hating me. I would hate me too. Anyway, Weller used to know me, so there's no shock in him learning that I'm uncomfortable with this pregnancy. Sure, he might be a little disgusted by the fact that a traitor still has feelings for him, but he won't be surprised._

 _Stop trying to pretend you don't hate them,_ Remi snapped. _It's not doing you any good. He'll use it against you. Have you ever wondered if this whole pregnancy is just a ploy? Psychological torture?_

 _Stop trying to hate them,_ Jane retorted back, just as sharply. _They just did what they could with the evidence available to them, and all the evidence clearly pointed to me being a traitor, a Trojan horse. Besides, I told them the whole truth, so they all know exactly what and who they're dealing with. I tried to do something good, I failed and did something horrible instead. That's it, end of story. They sent me to the CIA, but I deserved it, for betraying them, for killing Mayfair. All of this is my fault, not theirs._

 _They sent you through_ hell _,_ Remi hissed. _And they did nothing about it after. They could have scheduled treatment for you, or at least helped you get through the shock of it, but they did_ nothing, _leaving you to suffer through it alone. They_ deserve _payback, revenge._

Jane didn't answer, because Allie asked at that moment, "You sure?"

 _What was the question? Oh, yeah, pregnancy, right._ "Yeah, yeah, I'm really okay."

Allie narrowed her eyes. She got the feeling that she shouldn't push the issue, so instead she pursued, "How's Kurt doing as Assistant Director?"

Jane mentally frowned. Why would she want to know?

 _Probably so she can get you to relax,_ Remi suggested.

"He's doing okay, I guess," Jane answered, shrugging. "I wouldn't know - I've never held a position other than field agent."

Allie chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that was a horrible question." She finished her tart, just as Jane finished her muffin.

Jane simply smiled, quickly and skillfully changing the subject at Remi's insistent urging. "It wasn't that bad. Just not terribly thought out."

Allie's eyes glinted as she took the bait. "You want to talk about thought-out-ness, Doe?"

"Well, you tell me, Knight," Jane responded, smirking slightly, taking a sip from her smoothie. _That's good. I should get this more often._

"You want to talk about that time when you agreed to go out shopping with Tasha and Patterson _without a thought?_ " Allie grinned devilishly as she watched Jane's face change into a look of horror.

Jane quickly recovered from her momentary bout of terror. Dear lord, she had been dragged all around New York just shopping for _clothes_. "You want to talk about that time when you let Rich Dotcom come with us to steal paintings and pick the lock?"

Allie winced. "Low blow, Jane."

Jane raised an eyebrow at her, sipping from her smoothie. Allie broke into a grin, and Jane couldn't help herself from smiling, either. It just felt so damn _good_ to joke around with someone and forget reality for a little while.

Allie's phone buzzed, letting the Marshal know that Kurt would come in for his morning coffee soon. As much as she hated to break this up, she had to, if they wanted to avoid the possibility of Nas also with him. Those two would easily ruin the mood. "Hey, Jane, we better get moving."

Jane nodded, realizing that she had to get to work. About to pull out her wallet, she was confused when Allie stopped her and dropped fifteen dollars onto the table. "Oh, no, I can pay."

"Just let me pay for this," Allie stalled Jane's protests. "It's the least I can do for not being exactly friendly with you."

Sighing in resignation, Jane followed Allie out the door. A burst of crisp air met them as they stepped outside, the sun just beginning to come up. Smears of deep pink, blue, and indigo painted the sky, as the stars disappeared and the moon faded from view. The sun was a bright ball of light, its rays blinding, casting shadows. Jane's fingers unconsciously itched for a pencil, but Remi cruelly reminded her that Weller had taken that away, too.

Allie was saying something, and Jane nodded her head along to whatever was being said as she fought the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She tuned back into reality just as Allie said, "Kurt misses you, Jane."

 _What the hell did I just hear?_ Jane wondered, eyes glinting with suspicion.

 _A play on your weaknesses,_ Remi answered sardonically. _Weller doesn't like you, remember?_

"...and I know that this whole Weller-Nas thing hurts, but it'll be over, I promise," Allie continued, not noticing the slight shock on Jane's face. "They don't work together, not like you and him. He's just being bitter and not getting over what you did - and you tried to protect him, ironically. Just -" and Allie's voice broke a little. Jane couldn't blame her; she was trying to comfort the woman that the father of her baby loved. "- just give him some time."

Jane internally frowned. _There's something she isn't saying._

"Allie, what's going on?" Jane asked carefully, guardedly, body tensing.

Allie stared at her for a moment, not comprehending. Then - _shit._ "I - uh - there's nothing."

Jane simply let her green eyes drill into the other woman, waiting, wondering if she would bend.

" _Really_ ," Allie insisted.

Jane continued to stare at her, masterfully maneuvering Allie into a more private corner of the parking lot.

"Honestly, Jane, there's nothing," Allie protested as she followed the amnesiac absentmindedly, but she knew resistance was futile.

Cracking, because this was _Jane_ (she did hold a bit of a soft spot for the tattooed amnesiac, though she'll never admit it) and she had gone through CIA torture and she deserved better than being lied to, Allie said, her shoulders slumping a little, "I think Kurt's being played by Nas, and not - not emotionally. Manipulated, maybe, but not of his own free will."

Jane raised a questioning eyebrow calmly, despite her raging interior.

 _Please, you're going to fall for that?_ Remi scoffed. _You think Weller, of all people, is being_ drugged _?_

 _Why shouldn't I? If Weller's actually drugged, this might get me on his good side,_ Jane countered logically. Remi fell silent, having nothing to say to that argument.

"Because he's suddenly not acting like himself and he's letting Nas into his walls so easily but it's clear that they won't do well together and even _Patterson_ picked up on it and she told me that there was a bug in Borden's office and -" Allie paused, shaking a little.

"Are you saying you think he's being _drugged_?" Jane asked, somewhat incredulously, stepping closer to the US Marshal. The question wasn't really for her benefit; more to tell Allie that she was following the conversation closely.

The response was a small nod and a few droplets. Allie, one of the most fiercest women Jane knew, was crying. And she cried over the possibility of Weller being drugged. The tattooed amnesiac could barely think straight - it wasn't every day you heard that one of your coworkers might be possessed by chemicals.

"Hey, hey. We'll figure this out," Jane rushed to comfort Allie, even though she was slightly (really) shaken herself. "I'll ask Patterson about looking into his blood work, okay? Allie, we'll figure this out."

Allie nodded, brown eyes worried. "Thanks, Jane. But I meant what I said earlier."

Jane smiled at her distractedly. "Don't mention it. We should get to work now, though."

Nodding again, Allie headed to her car as Jane went to hers. Both drove mechanically to their workplaces, each consumed by their thoughts.

 _Was Weller drugged before my arrest?_ Jane wondered suddenly as she drove. _Did Nas plan all of this?_

 _Are you looking for an excuse to say he's innocent in all of this?_ Remi accused. _And if Nas planned this whole thing, then you might as well say she's Shepherd, and your mother is just the martyr._

 _As far as I'm concerned, everything that's happened is my fault. A direct link, indirect link, or byproduct, it's all because of my actions,_ Jane reasoned guiltily.

 _Cut the crap,_ Remi hissed. _You're important, yes, but it's not like the entire universe lies on your choices._ They _turned you into what you are now, so if you hate yourself for being yourself, hate them for turning you into you._

And as much as Jane hated it, the Remi side of her was right. While the FBI didn't exactly force her to be this person, they didn't exactly encourage her to become anything other than _good._ Even then, Jane managed to do _something_ criminal. Which made her wonder - was the person she is now the result of nature or the result of nurture?

 _It doesn't really matter at this point,_ Remi pointed out. _You're not exactly in a place to analyze your life. Shepherd's after you now._

 _Can you be sympathetic for just_ one _moment?_ Jane asked cynically.

Jane frowned as her phone rang, jarring her out of the mental conversation. She sighed, located a parking lot, and parked. A number from a burner phone appeared on the screen as she picked it up. _Roman_.

"Remi," Jane murmured, cautious.

"I've got Sandstorm on my tail," Roman hurriedly said over the line. "They're hunting me down."

Jane sucked in a breath. Roman didn't call if it was anything other than serious; and the way things were between them at the moment, she doubted he wanted to even see her, let alone call her. "Where are you?"

A shot rang out before he could answer, and Jane's blood ran cold.

"Hey," Zapata greeted Reade after his surgery. "How you doing?"

"Like a herd of elephants ran me over," he answered.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." There was a pause, and then he said, "Hey, do you trust Jane?"

Zapata tensed, fingers clenching around the railing of the bed. "Why are you asking?"

"Because, you know, she's human like all of us."

"Reade, I don't wanna talk about this now. You just had your surgery - being pumped full of morphine right now," Tasha let a smirk touch the corners of her mouth, "and you should rest."

"Tasha…"

"No, Reade, you gotta rest, get better."

"Tash," Reade began firmly, "we've got to talk about this now. Jane told us everything we needed, but the mission still failed. Sandstorm expected us."

Silently sighing, Tasha glanced over at her partner, before dropping her gaze to the railing of the bed. "Jane could have betrayed us."

"Do you really believe that, Tasha? Do you really?"

"She gave us everything, Reade, and we had the obvious advantage. It didn't work out, and instead the place was wired. How? They had to be watching us, to be able to set the explosives off at the right moment."

Reade blinked sleepily. "Tash, Jane could have been played. Maybe this was a trap for us all."

"They knew almost everything, Reade, what am I supposed to think?" Tasha asked, not really expecting an answer.

"That maybe, just maybe, Jane might be the pawn on both sides?" Reade answered.

Tasha blew out a sigh. "Jane's loyalty is…undefined. We don't know who she works for, where her loyalty lies."

"You used to know," Reade pointed out.

"Keyword: used. I don't know where her loyalty lies now, Reade, so I'm playing it safe and assuming she works for the other guys," Tasha explained. She held up a hand when Reade opened his mouth to speak. "Don't tell me I'm being stupid. Don't tell me to look at it in her point of view. Because I would rather be cold to someone than let a wolf in sheep's clothing come in."

Reade closed his mouth. He thought that, contrary to whatever Tasha said, she cared for Jane a lot and felt the supposed betrayal deeply. His partner was a complicated person, he knew, and had a complicated past.

"I know you said Jane was a pawn," Tasha shook her head, "but I don't think that's right. I think she's a knight, restricted to moving a certain way, a way that could get her killed or you killed, but once you free her movements, she'll be stronger than all of us."

 **A/N: So, what'd you think? A bit of a disappointment, I guess, since I was gone for a month. Thank you so much for your support for this story - it's overwhelming, honestly.**

 **Happy New Year!**

 **~Wolf and Phoenix**


	6. As Seams Stretch, Close to a Sunbeam

**A/N: Well, I wasn't expecting that. Two months (I think) off the radar and I get this kind of response! Thank you guys so much! Anyway, the beginning of this chapter is a bit...different. (Also, Roman wasn't shot in this version, he was grazed a little.) The italics will probably clue you in. And I think it might be a bit slow, so, um, yeah. Sorry.**

 **Fun fact from last chapter: I wasn't even planning to include Weller potentially being drugged. It just flew out from my fingers, and, well, I kind of liked the idea. So, if you didn't like that idea, blame my traitorous fingers (and if you liked the idea, thank them).**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Blindspot. End of story.**

 _He breathed strongly, each exhale disturbing the still, crisp, cold air. Each intake of breath felt like a knife of cold, only to be turned into a shadowy wisp as he blew it out. The flickers of fading stars above him matched his heartbeat, and the darkness of the night reflected his own soul; blackened, too dark to see. Only the slivers of light goodness piercing through kept him sane, much like the stars above._

 _His soul was dark from his past, a past that he willingly threw away for a sister. That wasn't the only thing he threw away; he threw away a mother, a life of violence. He thought it was worth it in that moment of truth, thought that his sister loved him more than their mother. Sometimes, though, he isn't sure. Should he have done what he'd done?_

 _It was too late, now. Much too late. His sister had turned into a person he didn't recognize, and he himself...he didn't know who he was anymore. He knew who he was just a mere few hours ago - brother, son of the mother of a revolution, doing what he thought was right. Now...he was a deserter, a traitor child, cowardly brother._

 _Remi had offered to take him to the FBI, a safe place, she said. He couldn't go there. Not even when he knew his sister would take down each and every person in that building if they dared to threaten him (he wouldn't try to stop her, even if it was certain suicide to attack in a building full of trained people). There were too many unknown variables, too many distrustful people, too many...law-enforcing agents. If he went, he wouldn't be living without an identity anymore. They would force him to take one, like how they had forced Remi._ Jane Doe. _Would he be John Doe, then? Roman Doe? Kruger was from a lifetime ago, a lifetime of orphans and rabbits and blood. A life he swore he would leave behind, even though it defined him._

 _He was being hunted by the very people he thought of as family. Or, what he thought a family was. Apparently his definition of family was very different than others. Was Remi family, still? He didn't know. Family - what a foreign word, a foreign concept. Shepherd kept him too busy to even wonder about family, love, friendship. He just took what he got and thought that maybe it was her way of showing affection. Oh, how wrong he was. Shepherd had been using him and Remi all along. She didn't care about what happened to them; all she cared about was her goal. He was angry at her, he supposed, for doing that, for thinking they were both useless. Because he knew that Remi was anything but useless. She was always protecting him, always looking out for him, the weaker one. How foolish of him to believe that he could ever match his sister, who was a thick pillar of steel, even after her memory wipe._

 _But he was also angry at Remi. Angry at her for agreeing to get her memory wiped, angry at her for easily erasing their lives together, angry at her for leaving him. She dragged him into this mess, dragged him into betraying his mother, dragged him into going on the run from the very group he worked with. She still loved him, yes, but she put him into his predicament: Remi, or Shepherd? Remi, his blood sister who protected him at every turn, the one who always stood by his side? Or Shepherd, the one who adopted them and gave them shelter and food, a cause to fight for? A cause that gave them purpose, even though it turned them into cold killers. He couldn't fault her for that, though, because that cause was what kept Remi and him sane and alive. Ironic, it seemed, since that same cause could get them killed, but it gave Remi life, a spring to her step. So, he followed her lead, and soon fell into a world of weapons, espionage, death, and revolution._

 _He scoffed at himself. It sounded straight out of a spy movie. Not that Shepherd ever showed them one. Remi had actually snuck him out to a movie theater once, when they were teenagers, risking her life just so he could see an action movie. She covered for him the whole time he was gone, and when she picked him up, he had immediately begged to go to another movie sometime. His sister had simply smiled._

 _Now he understood what she had done, though. She was trying to preserve his childhood. Like he even had one to start off with._

 _A crackle sounded on the ground behind him, jolting him out of his thoughts. He had stayed too long here to rest, to check on his shoulder. Shepherd's bullet had only grazed him, so it had stopped bleeding an hour ago. He had always healed fast. Currently, he was perched high in a tree, nestled among the strong oak limbs and surrounded by leaves. The bark had threatened to tear through the flesh on his fingertips as he had climbed up, but the view and relative safety was worth it. He glanced down at the surrounding area cautiously, before quickly and efficiently scaling down the tree and breaking into a steady run toward the rising sun. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he reasoned that the way away from Shepherd was probably the safest._

 _About an hour passed, and still he ran. For the first time in a long time, he felt afraid for his life. Immediately he was ashamed at even having thought that, but somewhere deep in him had already accepted that he would never be Remi. Remi was the perfect operative and more, and he, himself, was not. (Really, how long did it take him to accept that? Was he just as stubborn as Remi? He shuddered at the thought.) A growl of frustration and anger escaped him; he was being weak._

 _Nearly silent, quick footsteps behind him alerted him that he wasn't alone anymore. Somehow, they had found him. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised - Shepherd was, after all, his mother. She knew all of his tricks. (Except for the ones Remi taught him, because they were too special and secret to use, unless it was in a life-or-death situation. He shook his head, another growl, quieter this time, coming loose. He was being weak again.)_

 _Focusing on running faster, he outran them half an hour later. The sun had risen, its light casting long shadows over the ground. The sky wasn't dark anymore, but it was a blood red mixed with shades of pink and yellow and a tinge of green. He knew his close escape from those people wasn't a coincidence._

 _He needed backup, as much as he hated to admit it. And Remi was the only one he could ask._

 _A couple of taps later on his current burner phone (he goes through ten of those a month), he held it up to his ear as he ran below the crest of a tall hill._

" _Remi," his sister answered._

" _I've got -" he hesitated for a second, mentally scrambling for whatever codename she used, "- Sandstorm on my tail. They're hunting me down."_

 _He suddenly heard light breathing behind him, and broke into a sprint as adrenaline ran through his veins. He heard Remi suck in a breath, before asking, "Where are you?"_

 _Where am I? How about, where am I not? He looked around and spotted a town below. But before he could answer, a shot rang out. He knew he was doomed the second it collided with his left calf. Pain tore through him as he fell to the ground, somehow having enough sense to press the end button on the phone after rasping out, "Near a town by the compound."_

 _Blackness started to bleed into the edges of his vision as he fumbled to put the burner phone into his pocket. He fought against the welcoming darkness, somehow managing to apply pressure on his wound and dimly noting it was a clean shot. A bush was nearby, so he dragged himself into it, ignoring the branches that snapped at his exposed skin. Once safely hidden, he couldn't fight any longer. He thought he saw light reflecting off of a sniper rifle in the distance, but he wasn't sure._

 _Darkness overcame him._

* * *

"Geez, when'd you get all philosophical, Tash?" Reade asked jokingly. "As far as I know, the closest you ever got to philosophical was when you were on morphine that one time."

"I got philosophical when life got more complicated," Tasha answered, deadpan, "and we chased down bad guys daily." She paused. "And we agreed never to talk about that time, Reade."

Her partner smirked, but it soon changed into a frown. "More like we saved the world daily," Reade muttered. "And the world didn't even care."

"Meds making you grumpy?" Tasha asked innocently. "It's okay, everyone's like that once in awhile."

"Shut up, Tash." He shifted a bit, jostling his leg. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"Tired of my company?"

"When said company irritates an injured party, yes."

Tasha rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, fine, I get it. Don't have to use legal terms to try and tell me to leave."

"Tasha?" His voice was turning hoarse from sleepiness.

"Yeah?"

"Seriously, though, give Jane a chance, will you? She's not...the villain...in this story."

The corner of the female agent's mouth ticked up a little. It wasn't a smile, wasn't a smirk, but a kind of sad grimace-smirk. "Yeah, well, we're not all the heroes in this story either."

"You're not...a horrible person for...for keeping her out."

This time, Tasha smiled sadly, eyes downcast. "Tell that to her. It's too late, Reade, I've lost her completely. Besides, too many coincidences make it a little hard to trust."

"Just...observe, will you? Watch her a little bit."

A small pause. She stood, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair, and said, "I'll be by around seven."

Her partner didn't say anything. Tasha leaned closer and realized he had fallen asleep. Shaking her head fondly, a smirk on her face, she scoffed and left, mind churning.

* * *

"Stay with m -" was all Jane was able to say before her brother ended the call. She shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket, slumping in her seat. Guilt rose in her chest; she had been enjoying a breakfast with Allie instead of immediately looking for Roman. What kind of a sister was she?

What was she supposed to do? Go to the FBI, ask them to help her save her brother, who, if it wasn't clear before, was a murderer? No, she couldn't do that, but…she didn't exactly have the resources to scour the area, either. Also, she wasn't even sure where exactly the compound was.

 _Roman's in trouble,_ Remi nearly shouted at her. _I don't care what you have to do but make sure he's safe. You could even contact Rich Dotcom if that's what it takes; I don't give a damn, as long as he's safe and well!_

Resolve set, heart pounding, Jane called Weller and put him on speaker while she drove. She didn't really expect him to answer, but it was worth a try.

"Weller," he answered. Clearly he hadn't looked at the caller ID.

"It's Jane," she started. She heard an intake of breath before continuing, "Roman's in trouble. He's been shot by Sandstorm."

"Jane, what -"

"He called me, I heard the shot over the line. I'm driving to the office right now," Jane cut him off hurriedly. Roman could be dying - she didn't know how bad he had been shot. She guessed it was pretty bad though, since he had ended the call.

"Jane, are you sure -"

" _Yes,_ I'm sure. He told me he's near a town by the compound."

A pause, as Weller murmured something to someone on his end of the line. Then, "You're on speaker. Jane, we're not going back there. The place could probably be surrounded by Sandstorm agents. I'm not going to put the team at risk, or you at risk."

 _We're always at risk._ It hurt that he separated her and the team in his sentence, but she pressed on, "Weller, think about the intel that Roman has. We could take Sandstorm down, but if we don't get to him, we lose that advantage. He picked me over Shepherd. That has to mean something. Maybe I can turn him, or at the very least persuade him to give me some intel." Jane practically pleaded with him, voice cracking.

"Jane, we are not risking lives just for a man who is probably dead by now," Nas' voice came over. "Even if he has valuable intel, like Weller said, the place is probably swarming with Sandstorm agents. And there are at least twenty towns around the compound - you can't seriously be considering checking all of them? We don't have that kind of time and resources." Her tone softened. "A lot of agents just died, Jane, what would it look like if we spent valuable resources on looking for a dead man who was only partially responsible for their deaths, instead of looking for the group behind it?"

Jane's eyes hardened as she sped into the FBI parking lot. She parked, turned off the ignition, grabbed her phone, climbed out of the car, and slammed the car door. Clicking the lock button on the key fob as she strode away, she answered sharply, her voice echoing in the cave-like lot, "Sandstorm would probably have left right away. Why would they hang around a site that's practically blazing 'federal agents'? Besides, it was a trap. No resources were lost in the explosion, so there's no reason for them to go back."

Taking the familiar route to Weller's office, where she was sure they would be, she added, "I'm not ordering you to come with me. I'm just asking if you will."

Sure enough, Weller and Nas were in his office. Zapata was probably with Reade, Jane reflected. She envied their close partnership, the clear trust in their eyes. The same couldn't be said about her. Opening the door to the Assistant Director's space, she ended the call and said out loud, "What would you do, Weller, if Sarah was in trouble?"

He looked up, intense blue gaze locking with her own green gaze. Answering clearly and steadily, "Exactly the same thing you're doing."

Nas sighed. "Jane, we don't have the -"

"I frankly don't care that we don't have the time! This is my brother, my only blood relation on this planet!" Jane was breathing heavily, voice cracking.

"I understand that, Jane, but you have to understand this: we don't know where Patterson is!" Nas finally raised her voice.

 _Is she hired by someone to give out dilemmas on a daily basis?_ Jane wondered, irritated, yet worried for Patterson and Roman.

 _Kamal's just cannon fodder,_ Remi snarled. _Enough. If they're not willing to help, then you need to contact someone else._

 _One more crack._ Jane didn't even try to defend Nas from Remi's 'cannon fodder' description.

"Nas, you're perfectly capable of doing everything Patterson can do," Jane pointed out. "Can you just give me an idea of where Roman could be? You don't have to come with me."

Nas pursed her lips, glancing at Weller. But she eventually relented once she saw his almost imperceptible nod, the frown on her face indicating she was clearly not happy. "Fine." She brought up maps and coordinates, tapping away at her tablet. "The possible places he could be at are these," she nodded at the circled points, "as they're the only towns around the compound in a fifteen mile radius."

Jane nodded her reluctant thanks, snapping a picture of the map with her phone. "What do you think happened to Patterson?" She asked as she started toward the door.

"We don't know," Nas replied. "We haven't ruled anything out."

Jane frowned, acutely aware of the time ticking away yet worried for the blonde agent. "Did you check with Borden?"

"Borden's not here yet," Weller answered before Nas could.

Nodding thoughtfully, Jane left hurriedly. Had she stayed longer, she would have seen the masked glare directed at Weller by Nas.

 _Should I contact Rich Dotcom?_

 _You've got coordinates, you've got a map,_ Remi reasoned. _Not yet._

Jane raced to her car, got in, started it, and pulled out from the parking space. A long drive was ahead of her. She just hoped it wasn't too late.

Handfuls of minutes later, she saw a group of people dressed in black on a tall hill. About to drive past, it wasn't until Remi pointed out the light gleaming off of something in all their hands when she slammed on the brakes.

Guns.

 _If they even dare threaten to hurt Roman I'll skin them alive and castrate them all,_ Remi snarled.

 _They shot him already,_ Jane muttered matter-of-factly.

 _They better fear for their lives then,_ Remi hissed angrily.

Jane was on edge, counting heads, trying to come up with a strategy that didn't involve nuking the people. It wasn't going too well, with Remi offering more and more disturbing plans.

A glint of light twenty metres away caught her attention.

She quietly got out of her car, gently closed the door, and started toward the oblivious sniper lying in the grass of a hill, heart pounding. She forced herself to stay calm, to keep her breathing even and quiet.

 _Please castrate him,_ Remi muttered.

 _I'd like to stay out of jail, thank you very much,_ Jane replied, blood thrumming in her veins as she got closer.

 _As long as Roman's fine, whatever,_ Remi conceded, disappointed, but understanding that time was short.

Quiet footsteps didn't reach the sniper until Jane was three feet away from him. He started, hand reaching for the handgun at his belt, and whipped around, only to be met by a swinging fist. A knee took out the gun in his grasp, and an arm snaked around his neck, cutting off his air. He fell, unconscious, to the ground.

 _He deserved worse,_ Remi muttered mutinously as Jane released him.

She took a glance through the man's sniper rifle. Five people clothed in black were currently standing in a circle, surrounding a bush. Jane sucked in a breath. Lining the crosshairs up, she took out three within milliseconds of each other, followed by a fourth five seconds later. The last covered the bush as best he could, firing back at her, somehow figuring out that she was at their sniper's perch. Wincing as bullets slammed into the ground in front of her and beside her, she shakily aimed, and fired.

And missed, as the man suddenly ducked to the side. She fired again, but an empty _chink_ was all that met her ears.

Shit.

She scrambled for something, anything. Her own gun was unusable in this fight, partly because she didn't want to accidentally hit Roman, and partly because she didn't want the FBI to get dragged into this. Her head moved about wildly, scanning the area for any hidden weapons the sniper might have had, ducking as bullets flew past in every direction. The small carriers of potential death slammed into the soil, spraying dirt everywhere.

It would be no good to Roman if she died here. Really, it was partly her fault he was here at all; he had to choose between her and Shepherd. And then, when everything went down to hell, when his world must have come down, she didn't go looking for him. Her breathing quickened, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she took out her gun. Jane had no choice.

A loud gunshot, one that stood out from the rest, rang out, and the rain of bullets stopped. Jane's head snapped toward the sound so fast it was a wonder she didn't get whiplash.

Her attacker dropped to the ground, motionless. But the person who shot him was nowhere to be seen.

 **A/N: I'm..sorry? Hey, at least I didn't say Roman died. (He won't, by the way. I like his character too much to do that to him.) Thanks to life, I'm updating pretty slowly; I promise I'll have another chapter out by...next week. Maybe, if things go well. Thank you to all of you for sticking with this story and leaving wonderful reviews!**

 **~Wolf and Phoenix**


	7. And Sunbeams Die, But Many More Teem

**A/N: I know I said I was going to have the next chapter up last week. I'm horrible, I know - but life was busy beating me up and laughing at the mess. Anyway, enough of that, on with the story!**

 **Also, thank you all for following this and sticking with it. I'm really grateful :)**

 **Disclaimer: Blindspot is very intricately told. This story doesn't have that kind of flair, so obviously, I don't own Blindspot.**

Nothing was said as Kurt and Nas stared each other down after Jane left. Kurt's intense blue gaze bored into Nas' dark unreadable one. He was worried for Jane's judgement, seeing she was in such a frantic state about her brother - but he knew that kind of panic. The panic when you know something's happened to someone you're related to, someone you care about. He, personally, knew that panic, the horrible feeling of searching for someone you knew wasn't going to be there no matter how much you searched.

So he had let her go. He didn't want anyone to experience that kind of panic like he did when he was so little. Obviously, he can't protect everyone, but he'd like to think that he can protect the ones he personally knows. Nas didn't seem to understand that, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. Not everyone experiences that kind of blinding panic in their lifetime.

"What were you thinking, Kurt?" Nas snapped.

His eyes narrowed, sharpening his gaze into a diamond drill. No matter what he felt for this mysterious woman, he wouldn't let her be the root of someone's future pain. Even if Roman was dead before Jane managed to get to him, he at least was able to say that he had done everything she had asked for, everything she needed to get to her brother. He wouldn't be guilty for her pain - this time.

A sharp pain sliced through his heart. He should have stopped by an art store before he had come here, but Nas had invited him for coffee at his favourite place, and she didn't really let him say no. Allie, if she were here, would be berating him and threateningly glaring at him for letting the NSA agent drag him out for coffee. Kurt fought down a grimace. He was being an idiot, he knew that, but somewhere in his brain, he couldn't forgive Jane. He didn't know why, but there was some sort of wall between that connection they used to share - and he wanted to forgive her, no, wait, he already did - and instead he was pulled to Nas.

" _I_ was thinking about the person behind Jane, the feelings and emotions, instead of the indestructible machine you seem to think she is," Kurt snapped back. "And believe me, Jane is incredibly strong and reliable, and I don't doubt her ability to take care of herself and the team, but she's not _emotionless._ I won't let a member of my team experience pain, emotionally or physically, if I can help it."

"Sandstorm could ambush her!" Nas pointed out, folding her arms. "What if Shepherd had welcomed Roman back?"

"Shepherd doesn't seem like the forgiving type," Kurt argued. "She won't, and even if this whole thing was a plot to get to Jane, Sandstorm isn't hasty. They will not send out their forces to capture Jane right after our attempted ambush, because for all they know, we have eyes on every FBI agent in the building. Patterson is monitoring Jane's location and will be prepared to send out medical help if Jane needs it."

"Jane is a valuable asset to us, even if she cannot infiltrate Sandstorm any longer," Nas said. "I'm just worried that she's not thinking clearly."

 _Are you really?_ Kurt asked in his head.

Her next words dashed all his hopes of her caring about Jane's wellbeing. "Her grief may lead to her quitting the team."

"Jane is perfectly loyal to the team," Kurt snapped. He hated this, hated discussing Jane like she was an object. He also hated arguing with Nas, but here he was, doing just that. "I refuse to return her loyalty with disregard for her family."

"Kurt…" Nas' eyes softened, and understanding dawned on her features. "Is this about her, or you?"

Kurt's heart clenched. She had _no right_ in bringing up his past in this. Work was work, and lives stayed at home until they could be resumed. "We are not talking about this here," he said stiffly, tense.

"If this is influencing your judgement, then I think we will talk about this here," Nas returned, perfectly poise.

"As Assistant Director and an experienced FBI field agent, I think I can tell when my judgement is being influenced." Kurt crossed his arms, and an unbidden image of Jane grinning at him floated into his mind. He pushed it away; this argument couldn't afford distractions. "And as Assistant Director of the NYO, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities to attend to."

Nas, apparently, didn't know what a dismissal sentence was. "As Assistant Director of the NYO, you should be in the right state of mind to attend to your responsibilities."

"Agent Nas, I need to be on a phone call right now," Kurt interjected before she could go on.

Her eyes narrowed. "Agent Weller," she inclined her head as a gesture of farewell. She turned and stalked away, a determined look on her face.

Kurt wasn't sure if it was the use of her official title or the very obvious dismissal that ticked her off. Whatever it was, he was relieved that she was gone. Sometimes the woman could be incredibly manipulative and controlling - not that he was complaining when they were alone together, but in work…

Yeah, that phone call was going to last a while.

* * *

 _He hears shots as he swims back into consciousness. Blearily, his mind dredges up memories of him calling his sister, asking for backup. Heavy wetness coats one of his hands, as he registers pain and his left hand on his leg. Were those shots Remi? Did she come to get him?_

 _No, he tells himself, Remi wouldn't have come. She would have told him to tough it out and this experience would make him stronger. Remi wouldn't come and rescue her little brother just because he was shot in the leg - he supposes that it was her way of making him tougher, unbreakable. Much unlike that time when she tried to save his naivety, his innocence. She probably knew that he lost it somewhere along the road, torn to shreds and left to die._

 _A small whumph reaches his ears. He realizes that he's not as far from the bullets as he thought he was. (A part of his mind screams at him for not being observant enough, for not being more alert.)_

 _So he cracks open an eye cautiously and nearly groans aloud at how bright it is. He wonders, briefly, whether or not Mother Nature had something against him. That question is quickly stamped out by the answer: of course she had something against him. According to the morals the rest of the world had, he is considered a terrorist. He considers himself to be a person that was trying to change the government's ways, trying to make them pay for causing so much destruction and not doing anything about their messes, leaving the people with no authority to clean up._

 _He supposes that he had changed somewhere. He still sees the government as cruel, but the way Shepherd is using to make the government change is considered wrong. Maybe it really is._

 _He remembers now that Remi isn't the Remi he used to know. This Remi would fight through Hell and back just to rescue him. He's not sure if that fact comforts him or gives him pause as to how reckless that sounds._

 _He doesn't have an ingrained set of morals that Remi now has, that the rest of the world has. The orphanage took care of that. But Remi showed him a taste of the world that he could have been part of if he hadn't been a terrorist. Fighting the bad guys sounded pretty good to him, even though they wouldn't be people of authority. For the most part, anyway._

 _He blinks a couple of times as a gunshot brings him back into reality. Thankfully, his eyes have adjusted to the brightness and he can see a few bodies, clothed in black, lying in his line of sight. A moving leg catches his attention, and by moving his head up a few inches, he can see the body it's connected to. Smothering down the impulse to lash out, he glances around, hoping to glean information about the attacker before anyone realises he's conscious._

 _Judging from the slight delay in gunshot to impact, he thinks the attacker might be a couple miles away - one or two, maybe - and that they're probably on elevated ground. He winces as a bullet slams mere millimeters in front of his face, and has enough conscious thought to drop his head a little to avoid being mistakenly shot._

 _Bullet shells spray everywhere as the person in front of him shoots. He's eliminated the chance of it being Remi, because Remi would be more creative. Honestly, just standing here and shooting someone? Practically suicide, especially if you're protecting something._

 _Of course, if the attacker was aiming to kill him, that didn't necessarily bode well for him, either. But he preferred not to think about it that way if he were to get out of this alive. Even though he doesn't really deserve to be alive, with all the things he's done, Remi would likely tear apart if he were dead. Besides, he'd like to be able to watch over his sister._

 _So he waits, because that's all he can do to avoid being shot again. It's nerve-wracking, but he'd never admit it (his mind's shouting at him that he's being weak but right now he doesn't really care because his_ life _is on the line). He also notes that the attacker has stopped firing._

 _An opportunity presents itself when the guy seemingly protecting him inadvertently kicks a small handgun in his direction. The glint of black metal is tantalizing, but he has to drag himself over there first._

 _Somehow._

 _A grimace on his face, he uses his free hand and leg to drag himself towards the gun lying a few feet from him, feeling dirt being pushed up his fingernails. His injured leg trails painfully after him as he clamps his blood covered hand even tighter on the wound. He's sure he's leaving a blood trail, and if the person in front of him turns even a little bit to the right, they'll see him._

 _At this point of view, he can see the features of the man standing before him. He bites back a curse as he identifies who this is - a member of Shepherd's inner circle. One of the most trusted fighters._

 _All the more reason to get that gun, then. Finally, he reaches the firearm and wraps his fingers around it. The comforting weight focuses him, blocking out all feelings of pain or weariness. Slowly, but surely, he raises the gun, still human-shielded. He's never realised how heavy a simple handgun could be._

 _Eventually, the muzzle of the gun is pointing at the exact spot where a bullet would tear through the spinal cord and impact the heart. The world shakes and blurs as he feels his strength leaving him, but he can't pass up this chance now. It's a risk not knowing who the other shooter is, but at least he can take out one of Shepherd's top fighters. He doesn't want to (because a part of his mind still sees Shepherd's army as family), but he considers it revenge for how many times this particular person has taunted him and beaten him with a stick in the orphanage._

 _A loud bang explodes through the cacophony of gunshots. He watches emotionlessly as his target drops, and doesn't even feel the gun slipping from his grasp as darkness bleeds into his misty vision._

* * *

Jane, from her vantage point, saw the glint of a gun falling onto the ground behind the dead attacker. Blonde hair stood out from the bullet shells. Sprinting over to the field so far away, she fumbled for her phone as she ran. Dialling Patterson's number, she held it up to her ear, so eerily similar to the pose her brother had also been in minutes ago.

"Patterson," the tech's voice answers.

"I've got Roman," Jane almost shouted. "I need medics here, fast - he's been shot."

"On it. Medical's on their way."

"Thanks, Patterson," Jane huffed out, her furious pace dealing a slight blow to her ability to be able to talk.

"Yeah. Hope Roman'll be alright," Patterson brushed off the thanks. "Weller would like you to call him once you've got everything sorted out."

 _It's almost like she knows Roman will be fine._ "Sure." With that, Jane ended the call and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

 _You should have brought medical supplies!_ Remi snapped.

 _Thanks for telling me now,_ Jane responded darkly. _Weren't you more worried about finding Roman?_

 _Those things better be sent to the darkest caverns in Hell,_ Remi muttered, referring to the Sandstorm agents.

Jane wasn't sure if she even wanted to disagree with that. Instead, she pumped her legs harder as she neared the halfway point between her and Roman.

 _Medical help will be here before you even get there,_ Remi snapped. _Go faster!_

 _In case you haven't noticed, my muscles are being torn apart each lunge I take,_ Jane responded sarcastically. _It's not like I can run a mile and a half in four minutes!_

 _If you bothered to eat more, you know, you would have more energy,_ Remi sniped. She didn't believe that Jane should be held responsible for what had happened to the team. As far as she was concerned, she was trying to protect people, but ended up getting them killed instead. At least they were safer dead than alive, in this world they lived in.

 _I hate the part in my mind that's horribly rational and can snipe like you,_ Jane muttered as more minutes passed and she grew closer to Roman.

Remi didn't respond. For a second Jane wondered why, but then saw that there was a growing pool of blood on the ground under her brother. A feeling of protectiveness and growing despair simmered under the calm, collected mask Jane was wearing at the moment.

She pushed herself even harder, feeling her body protesting, but not caring. _Roman's going to die, Roman's going to die, Roman's going to die, Roman's going to die_ kept cycling through her head. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she practically flew to him, crashing into the ground and feeling her pants take the brunt of the friction. Her legs burned, but all she cared about at the moment was Roman lying motionless on the ground, not even a twitch of the eyelid or spasm to let her know he was still alive. Pressing her hands firmly against the bleeding wound, she noted detachedly that it only just started clotting. Thankfully, it was a clean shot, so there wouldn't be a high chance of complications if he managed to make it to the hospital. Distantly, Jane could hear sirens blaring in the distance, and silently urged them to come faster.

She needed to bring him back into consciousness. Her fingers felt his pulse; it was there, but weak. "Roman." Nothing. "Roman!"

Nothing.

"Roman, it's Remi." She shook his shoulder lightly. No response.

"Roman, please! Don't leave me now - don't let Shepherd be the one who took you down!" Jane's voice was cracking, turning raspy from panic.

Still there was no response. The fingers that had felt his pulse migrated to his cool hand.

"I know you're in there, Roman." Her voice became pleading as medical help arrived on the road. They still had at least half a mile to go, and it soon became apparent that they were going to head down to them with the ambulance. Jane's tone became urgent; she couldn't guarantee that she would be allowed onto the ambulance with her brother. "Roman!"

She thought she saw his eyelid flicker. "Roman, it's Remi. The medics are here to help you; please don't fight them, okay?"

His hand twitched, and soon it grasped her own hand with surprising strength. Jane took that as a sign that he heard her.

"Ma'am? We'll take over from here," a medic addressed her politely. He also handed her a couple of cleaning wipes. Accepting them, she nodded mutely, rising to her feet and stepping away, and watched as they quickly loaded her brother onto a stretcher and into the ambulance with precise movements. They asked her a few questions, such as what happened and who she and Roman were, forcing Jane to lie a couple of times for Roman's safety.

"I need to go with him," Jane stated as soon as the questions stopped. She was exhausted and emotionally drained.

The medic that had spoken to her shook his head apologetically. "We're sorry, ma'am, but due to the severity of his condition - we cannot allow anyone onto the ambulance that is not medical personnel."

 _The severity of his condition… Those black-clothed imbeciles should be glad they're dead,_ Remi snarled. Jane was inclined to agree, renewing her fight for a spot next to Roman on the ambulance.

"I'm FBI, and I'd like to be on that ambulance," Jane nearly snapped, flashing her badge. The words _for protection_ were left out, but still implied. Maybe it was a little underhanded, but frankly, she could care less. Roman's life was hanging by a thread, from the looks of things.

He still shook his head, a look of understanding but apologeticness on his features. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But I can assure you that we have security on board." And with that, he disappeared into the back of the ambulance. Jane watched the vehicle leave, sirens flashing and all.

As her adrenaline left her, the tattooed amnesiac sank to the ground, echoes of Roman's blood still on her hands.

 **A/N: Well, that's that for this chapter. Hope you guys are having a wonderful day (or night) and thanks for sticking with me!**

 **Allie's not in this chapter, unfortunately - she's only mentioned once - but I think I can promise that she'll definitely be in the next one.**

 **Also… Do you guys think Rich Dotcom should be in this story?**

 **As always, feel free to leave constructive criticism and whatnot in the reviews!**

 **~Wolf and Phoenix**


	8. But As They Teem, Darkness Lurks Astream

**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot.**

* * *

Jane sighed as she shifted around on the hard, grey, plastic chair. Waiting at the hospital had quickly become her most hated activity within the first hour of waiting. She checked her watch - only a few minutes had passed since the last time she checked it - and pulled out her phone.

For some reason, Weller wasn't answering her calls. Jane frowned, thinking. She was pretty sure Patterson did tell her to call him once everything was okay (it _wasn't,_ but she figured that 'okay' would be 'alive and breathing'; he couldn't have possibly thought Roman was unhurt). Calling meant picking up and answering, not ignoring and doing whatever Assistant Directors do. Jane understood that things do come up, but at least three hours of 'things coming up' seemed a bit much.

She wasn't going to lie (at least, not this time) - it kind of hurt, a little, that he wasn't picking up, wasn't waiting for her to call and tell him she was alright and Roman was getting treated. Jane would have thought that he at least followed his own orders, but maybe Weller just didn't have the time to keep track of everything anymore.

 _Maybe it was that drug Allie was talking about._

She shook her head. It was no use jumping to conclusions when she didn't even have cold, hard evidence to start with. Even though it hurt seeing him with Nas when he thought she couldn't see. It was almost like he wanted her to see.

 _Get a grip on yourself,_ Remi said sharply. _Roman's being literally sewn back together and you're thinking about relationships?_

Jane hated it when Remi brought her back to earth.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it, eyebrows rising in surprise, before answering with a, "Weller. Where have you been?"

"I was on a phone call," he said, a slight edge in his voice.

 _Right._ She ignored the slight pang in her heart as she recognized that tone of voice. That tone of voice usually meant he had been arguing with someone - Nas - and that argument probably wasn't finished. "You wanted me to call you?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. He wondered why she changed the subject so abruptly, but put it down as being worried for Roman. It sounded like she was in a hospital, anyway. "How's Roman? How are you?"

"Roman's being operated on," Jane forced out the words. "He was shot, in the calf, and lost a lot of blood. Paramedics told me that he was in a serious condition." She looked down as she spoke, imagining the red that had covered her hands hours earlier.

"And you?" Weller asked after a few seconds, realizing she wasn't going to go on.

"I'm fine," Jane assured him. "There was a group of gunmen surrounding Roman when I got there and I took them out." She lowered her voice. "I think they were Sandstorm agents."

Unseen by her, Weller nodded. "Alright, I'll get the rest of the team together and we'll take a look around." Then, almost as if he anticipated her question, he added, "We'll be fine, you stay at the hospital."

"Thanks," she said softly.

Before she could end the call, he said, "Hey, I hope Roman will be okay."

She smiled a little and replied, "Yeah, me too." And then she pressed end.

Staring at the dimly lit phone screen, she wondered if Allie was wrong about the possibility of Nas drugging Weller. How was it possible that the NSA agent would be able to slip Weller something routinely without anyone of them noticing? Weller didn't seem off in that conversation, except for the slight edge in his voice.

 _Nas is NSA,_ Remi reminded her. _Any angle is possible._

Jane grudgingly acknowledged that fact. _We're all around Weller during work hours, so we'd see if something was slipped into his food, unless this drug is absorbed through the skin… but that would mean casual contact, which neither of them initiate._

 _Have you considered the fact that Nas could be seducing Weller for a reason?_ Remi pointed out. _Maybe skin to skin contact there. Or coffee shop visits. Don't pretend you didn't see them holding identical cups._

Remi made good points, Jane thought. What if Nas took him out of the team's proximity and gave him something then, through means other than drugging his food?

"Miss Doe?" A doctor called.

Her head snapped up. She stood, meeting the doctor halfway down the hallway. "How is he?"

"It wasn't exactly a clean shot," he started, eyes tired and weary. "The bullet had passed through, alright, but odd pieces of metal were found lodged into the muscle. We're not quite sure what exactly they are, but tests reveal they had been dipped into some sort of paralyzing solution." He saw the expression on her face and hurriedly went on, "His health is not in danger from it. Think of it as a kind of tranquilizing drug. Now, we've just finished picking out each and every piece and stitched up the wound. He's not awake and you can't go in and see him yet, as we are still treating his other wounds and giving him a blood transfusion." He gave her a small reassuring smile, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. "He's not out of the woods yet."

"Thank you," she smiled at him, keeping the worry from her expression. He nodded at her, turned on his heel, and briskly went back the way he came.

She slowly made her way back to her chair, dropped heavily into it, and stared at the phone still in her hand. Jane opened up her contacts, scrolled, stopped at a familiar name. Her thumb hovered over it, hesitant.

* * *

"What's going on?" Was the first question Weller heard when he stepped into Patterson's lab. Then, it was followed with a, "Is Jane alright?", and, "Did she get to Roman?"

The team was gathered around the main table in the lab, all eyes watching him draw nearer to the group. Zapata had most likely been filled in on what was happening by Patterson, but probably still needed some specifics. Patterson, herself, didn't know the full events of what had transpired earlier, so he decided to give them a brief rundown of what had happened before heading out.

"First," he started, hands held in a placating gesture, pausing in front of them, "Jane received a call from Roman this morning because he needed backup and was in danger. I gave her permission to go and get him," he ignored the icy expression on Nas' face, "and she just called me and told me that Roman's in the hospital, and there were gunmen around him when she went to go provide backup. She thinks they were Sandstorm agents."

Shocked silence. Nas' expression modulated to a thoughtful one. Patterson broke the sudden quiet, asking, "How could they have known?"

"We're not sure," Weller said. "But I think we should go check out that place. Patterson, you got the coordinates, right?"

"Yep, sending it to all your phones now."

"Alright. Send forensics to the scene. Let's move."

* * *

Jane heard the line ring, once, twice, three times, and was tempted to just end the call. Why did she decide to call Allie, anyway?

"Jane?"

She startled slightly. The ringing had been so monotonous that she wasn't expecting to hear the voice of the US Marshal.

"Yeah. It's me," she answered, while she scrambled for something to say. How were you supposed to ask someone to talk about a traumatic event? And, how much of this situation was she allowed to reveal? Did Allie even know about Sandstorm?

"What's up?" Allie asked, eyes moving over a file she was scanning. Luckily, she was standing in the file room, where silence was practically guaranteed.

"Um, I'm not quite sure how to say this," Jane admitted with a small, nervous laugh.

"Usually coming out with it directly instead of stalling works," Allie half-teased. Jane didn't call if it wasn't important...

"Really? Wow," Jane sarcastically muttered.

A corner of Allie's mouth quirked. "C'mon, Jane."

"Well, uh, there was a situation this morning, and, uh, my brother's in the hospital." She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, focusing on the smooth texture of the phone in her hand. She forced her tone to be light and strong. "He's in pretty bad shape."

Allie's eyes softened as she heard the underlying tone in her friend's voice. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sitting alone in the hallway with nurses bustling about, Jane shrugged. "Do you have time? I don't want to -"

"Relax, Jane, I'm on a desk job, remember?" Allie interrupted. She continued, her tone light, "The one Kurt pushed me into?"

A small smile formed on the amnesiac's lips. "The one you should have taken so you wouldn't have gotten shot."

"Not you too?" Allie groaned into the phone. "Kurt's already being a mother bear. I don't need another one."

"Okay, I'll stop," Jane relented. She knew how overbearing Kurt could be.

"Did you get any news on your brother yet?" Allie hated herself for changing the subject, but she wasn't going to stray from her promise of talking it out with Jane.

"Yeah. They said some kind of paralyzing solution was in his system and they fixed up his bullet wound. I think they're working on some of his more minor injuries and giving him blood."

Allie nodded, even though Jane couldn't see her. "It could be worse."

"Good thing it wasn't."

A comfortable silence ensued as Jane sat back in her chair and listened to the rustling sounds coming from Allie's side.

"Hey, Jane?" Allie asked, after she had put away the boxes of files.

"Mm?"

"I'm coming to the hospital."

Jane sat up straight, her posture tense. "What? No, Allie, I'm fine -"

"No, you're not, and you need some moral support. Trust me. Besides, I'm not really need much today anyway," Allie interjected. She was already moving through the hallways of the US Marshal office.

"Allie -"

"I'm going to be there, Jane, no matter how much you protest." Allie mentally sighed. Of course Jane was stubborn. But she knew perfectly well that under that veil of strength, the tattooed amnesiac needed someone to lean on, someone to talk to. And as a friend, it was her duty to be there. _Even though it really should be Kurt._ She cursed Kurt in her head, wondering why on earth he was being such an idiot, then realized that she should probably curse Nas too.

"Tell me which floor you're on, Jane, and I'll be there," Allie nearly commanded.

"The floor that houses the most seriously hurt patients," Jane answered, adding, "I'm not quite sure which floor number that is."

"I can figure it out, don't worry about it," Allie assured her. "I'll see you soon."

With a _click_ , the line went dead.

Jane pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. What was Allie thinking? There was no way she would be able to get the time off needed to come here.

 _Why didn't you fight her?_ Remi asked. And then, she taunted, _Weak._

 _I'm sorry, I'm not the sociopath you are,_ Jane snapped.

 _Excuse me? I'm not a_ sociopath. _I'm cautious, suspicious, strong. Whereas you? You're a -_

I'm _human. Unlike you, isolating Roman. Unlike you, who would mercilessly leave him bleeding out unless you were ordered back. Unlike -_

 _I know we could have gone about this a different way,_ Remi snarled. Jane paused. _We could have quietly taken down the government or ordered some kind of reform to happen. We didn't have to create a war. Tactically, I know that we didn't need to. But Shepherd did. And I'm only her daughter. Eventually, I suppose, I convinced myself that what we were doing was the right way to go about it._

 _You're the tactical part of my brain,_ Jane muttered. _The part that screams at me whenever I'm doing something tactically wrong._

 _It's ingrained. I'm the part that wasn't wiped away from your memories. Besides, I'm just analyzing everything from your viewpoint. I'm not really Remi._

 _Right, like how I'm not really Jane, either._

A person wearing all black took a seat one over from hers. Something about them triggered an alarm bell inside Jane's head. Just as she began to stand and move toward the water fountain to clear her head, they leaned over and dangerously murmured, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She froze. Turned her head, looked at the person sitting next to her. The sound of her pulse thudded through her ears as she forced her breathing to be even, instead of the gulping breaths she was sure she would take. A sardonic smile was on their lips.

"Hello, _Jane._ It's a pleasure to see you again."

Shepherd.

"What do you want from me?" Jane hissed, glancing subtly at the closest security camera. How did Sandstorm know she was here?

But Shepherd caught that. And chuckled. "My dear Jane, you couldn't possibly think that we left those on?"

The only security now was Allie, who would be arriving soon. Unless Sandstorm caught that too. But Jane doubted they did, because why else would they take the risk and come here? They wouldn't want to leave a loose end.

"Don't worry. I won't do anything here," Shepherd went on. Jane caught a _but_ in that sentence.

Shepherd watched a wary look come into Remi's - no, _Jane's,_ because there was no way this woman sitting in front of her was her daughter - and suppressed a dangerous smile from replacing her sardonic one. She let the silence go on, noting that Jane seemed perfectly fine with waiting. Narrowing her eyes, she added, "Unless, of course, you decide to go against my instructions. Then you can say goodbye to Roman and this hospital." She gestured to the security guard standing by the operating room where Roman was being treated. The guard shifted, revealing a small remote in his hand.

"What do you want me to do?' Jane demanded, carefully crafting an emotionless mask over her features. _Shepherd has the upper hand here, how? How could she have rigged this place to blow?_

"We'll start off simple." Shepherd's voice lost its taunting quality. Instead, it was ice cold and commanding. "I'll lead you to the elevator, and we leave the hospital. You try and make a break for it, Roman and this hospital is gone. You try and send a message to your team, Roman and this hospital is gone. All it takes is one word from me, and everything you see now will be ashes. So I'll take that phone from you now." Jane wordlessly handed over her phone, watched Shepherd hand it over to the security guard, and followed her 'mother' into the elevator. Watched as Sandstorm's leader punched in an access code, felt gravity shift under her as the elevator moved down.

Her thoughts were clear, her mind was calculating, and her expression was nonexistent. She was on her own now, just the way Remi liked it.

* * *

Allie arrived at the hospital, checked in with the hospital staff, and headed to the floor Jane was most likely to be on. Climbing the stairs (doctors could really be cruel if they wanted to), she pulled out her phone and checked to see if Jane had texted. Nothing came up. Dropping it back into her jacket pocket, the US Marshal arrived at the floor and found nobody there. Just nurses bustling around and a security guard. She frowned; was she on the wrong floor?

"Excuse me," she addressed one of the nurses. Instead of one stopping, a pair of them stopped, looked at her curiously.

"Did you happen to see a black-haired woman in here?" Allie asked, gauging their reactions.

"I think we did, didn't we, Rean?" The male nurse asked his partner.

"Yeah. She was sitting over there, but I don't know where she went. Maybe she went for a snack or something," Rean answered.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank us," Rean replied, waving off the thanks. "Hope you find her!"

Allie nodded and gave them a smile, watched them leave and continue on. A thoughtful look crossed her face. Jane wouldn't go looking for a snack - hell, she hardly ate lunch, let alone snacks. Even if she was hungry, she wouldn't leave Roman without seeing Allie first and telling the US Marshal where she was going. Something didn't add up…

"Weller." A rough voice answered as he picked up.

"Kurt, it's Allie," she said, rolling her eyes. He probably didn't check the caller ID before picking up. _Typical._

"Allie? What's wrong?" Instantly, he became alert and ready to respond. They weren't getting much out area around the scene where Jane took down Sandstorm agents.

"Why do you always assume something's wrong with me?" Allie teased. "No, don't answer that, Kurt. I'm fine, but do you know where Jane is?"

"Jane? Jane's at the hospital, waiting for her brother," Kurt answered, his confusion bleeding into his words. "Why?"

"That's the thing, Kurt. She's not here."

" _What?_ " He nearly snapped. "Are you there?"

"Yeah, I said I'd keep her company, it's not like I had anything important today anyway," Allie confirmed. "But she's not here, and I don't think she's anywhere in the building."

"Right, I'll have Patterson check the security cameras. Don't leave, in case Jane shows up, alright?"

"I wasn't going to," Allie muttered.

Distantly, she heard Zapata ask, "What's going on?" before Kurt ended the call. The US Marshal dropped into one of the hard plastic chairs, exhaling. It was turning out to be a crazy day, and it wasn't even ten yet.

* * *

"Weller, what's going on?" Zapata asked as she and Nas surrounded him.

"Give me a second," Weller held her off. He put his phone on speaker. "Patterson."

"Yeah, Weller?" The tech answered.

"I need you to check the security cameras at the hospital Jane's at," he ordered.

"On it." They heard her tapping at her tablet, before she mumbled, "Huh, that's not right."

"Patterson?" Weller asked, on edge.

"The cameras had some kind of blackout about five minutes ago. They're back online, but…"

"Give me something here, Patterson."

"The previous footage is gone. Deleted." The team could hear her bewildered tone.

Weller held back from punching something. "Can you recover it?"

"No. It's like it never existed." Then, she asked, "Weller? Why are you asking?"

He sighed and spoke both to the phone and to the two team members beside him. "Jane's missing."


	9. For Fish Swim Astream, As The Regime

A/N: Hey, happy 2018! I know, it's been almost a year since my last update. Since then, there've been finales and twists and many changes to the plot of Blindspot - and we're in a bit of a hiatus right now. (Ahem..a perfect time to update.) I'm not going to lie, I had a bit of a _help I'm drowning in work_ for quite a long time, and I lost my muse for a year. In fact, this chapter has been sitting half finished in my documents for a really long time. Hopefully, I'll be able to bring this story back on track. Anyway, the number of people who have reviewed, favourited, and followed this story despite all of that astounds me, so - thank you all. From the bottom of my heart. I would list all of you, but that would make this preamble way too long; I doubt you want to scroll through all of that just to find your username. This is already getting too long, so I'll cut this author's note here.

Disclaimer: I don't think the Blindspot writers would take a whole year off because of school and other things - writing is their job, isn't it? So, you can see that I don't own Blindspot.

* * *

An explosion of noise came from Zapata and Patterson. Various variations of " _What?!"_ , "When did this happen?", "Who?", and, "Where was security?" in both English and Spanish were simultaneously shouted out. Weller winced as his ears took a beating, having ended the phone call earlier but forgotten about preventing his earpiece from blasting words into his ear. Nas simply had a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Allie just told me," he said, immediately putting a stop to the cacophony of words. "She went to the hospital to keep Jane company, but Jane wasn't there."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sudden guilty expression cross Zapata's features. He was sure Patterson was feeling guilty as well - hell, he was feeling guilty. Previous Sandstorm affliction or not, Jane was still Jane, and they were supposed to be with her. Supposed to wait in the hospital with her for Roman. Supposed to support her through the stress of her brother in critical condition. But they didn't do any of that.

He felt terrible. He felt a yawning crater suddenly open up and swallow his heart, and he let it. What made him act so coldly to Jane? He thought they were closer than when they first found out everything, but...

"I know you are all experiencing various feelings for Jane's current situation," Nas cut into the silence that had ensued. "But I need to remind you that all is not lost."

 _Of course all wasn't lost! It isn't like Jane's immediately dead after being kidnapped._ Weller almost wanted to growl at Nas for her incorrect reading of the situation. Honestly, after months of working with the team, it was like she didn't know any of them - at all. Except for him. And intimately.

He shook off those thoughts. They weren't going to help them get Jane back. "Anyone got any ideas?"

"Sandstorm," Zapata and Patterson chorused. The guilt had transformed into determination, plain in Zapata's eyes.

Weller inclined his head. "Most likely. Patterson, check all cameras around the hospital - look for anything suspicious." He waited for her murmur of assent and the subtle _whirr_ of her machines working. "We're not finding anything here -"

"Weller," Nas interjected, nodding at an agent who had approached, "they just found a sniper pack a mile up north."

"Let me know what you find," he ordered the agent, who nodded and left. He addressed the team members in front of him, "We haven't found anything Sandstorm related here. This is a dead end."

"I agree," Nas added.

" _Uh, guys?"_ Patterson asked through their comms.

"What'd you find, Patterson?" Weller asked.

" _It's not what I found, it's_ who _I found_ … _Do you guys remember Rich Dotcom?_ "

* * *

Jane inwardly winced as Shepherd suddenly slammed the lights on. Blinding light seared the back of her eyelids as her eyes reflexively slammed shut. Blinking, trying to regain her sense of orientation, she scanned the surroundings blearily.

The walls were bare, a shining white, and the floor was concrete. The ceiling was so high that she couldn't tell where it was. Nothing was in this large hall, except for Shepherd and herself. What game was her adoptive mother playing?

"I imagine you must be wondering where you are now," Shepherd stated coldly.

 _No shit, Sherlock,_ Remi muttered.

Having received no response, the leader of Sandstorm continued, "We're in the middle of nowhere. No Man's Land, you could call it." She glanced over at Jane. "You know, I'm quite curious - how did you fall in love with Kurt Weller?"

The tattooed amnesiac barely held herself back from stiffening at the sudden and blatant show of a breach of privacy. But Shepherd almost made it sound like it was a mother asking her daughter about the choice of boyfriend.

 _Either I'm delusional or she's delusional,_ Jane thought sarcastically. _I wonder which one it is._

Shepherd lifted an eyebrow. "No response?" Her tone turned to a mocking one. "What, has he left you for someone else?"

Forcing herself not to react, Jane simply stared at her adoptive mother.

"Poor Jane," Shepherd mocked. "The man she loved happens to love another. Oh, the heartbreak." She glanced at Jane, gauging her reaction. Jane remained motionless. The older woman went on, her voice frosty yet somewhat sardonic, "No man would ever love you, Remi. _Jane._ You're damaged goods, my dear daughter. Your past will forever haunt you."

Jane clenched her teeth. She knew it wasn't true but the words struck deeply. Calmly, with a voice that was like a burst of winter wind, she asked, "What do you want?"

Shepherd seemed to have been anticipating that question. Almost gleefully, she answered, "I'm glad you asked, Jane. All you have to do is steal this key from this safe at this street." She pulled up images and directions on a tablet that she had somehow kept on her person. Jane scanned them carefully while wondering what Shepherd's endgame was.

"You brought me here - why?" Jane asked as soon as the other woman was done.

She swore a sparkle came into Shepherd's eyes. "To remind you of what will happen if you fail."

A video surfaced on Shepherd's tablet. It was grainy as if it had been filmed on a webcam, making it impossible for Jane to make out any distinct details. But it was clear that a person was tied to a chair and two figures were standing next to the captive, their weapons carelessly pointed at the human.

Jane was about to ask who this person was when Shepherd answered her unspoken question. "That is Sarah Turay, a Naval Intelligence Officer. She hasn't been particularly...cooperative. Unfortunately, we can't have her running out and about spreading information about us. I'm sure you know what's going to happen next, _Jane._ "

"You're bringing an innocent into this?" Jane demanded.

 _This is Shepherd, the leader of a terrorist organization,_ Remi remarked sarcastically. _What, do you think she's going to use puppies instead?_

"Well, I can't have you scheming with your FBI friends, can I?" Shepherd gave a deceiving smile. "Just know, my dear daughter, that if you don't steal this key within thirty minutes or if you contact your FBI team, you'll find a dead Sarah Turay on the doorstep of the New York FBI office."

Jane narrowed her eyes at her adoptive mother. She was stuck, and they both knew it. "Fine. But no one lays a finger on Sarah Turay before those thirty minutes, or you don't get your precious key."

The leader of Sandstorm simply chuckled indulgently. "Oh, Jane. You're not in a position to make threats." Before Jane could retort, Shepherd continued, "But I'll agree to that condition. Don't expect it next time."

"I suppose it's too much to ask for a ride?" Jane asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm not that heartless," Shepherd said lightly. "But it will cost you time. My driver will take you to Times Square."

She was silent for a few moments, undoubtedly waiting for some kind of gratitude or snide remark, but none came. Remi filled the silence by commenting, _Of course it'll cost time. Times Square is the busiest place you could drop someone off, you trigger-happy hunter of Roman._

Shepherd continued, "From there, you're on your own. I'll know about any contact you make with anyone. Oh, and do try not to get caught. Miss Turay's life is on the line, after all.

"Tick tock, Jane."

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it for now. Hope you enjoyed it! As always, feel free to leave a review :)

~Wolf and Phoenix


	10. As The Regime Waits, Lurking For Cream

A/N: Um...Hey? Hope you're all doing well! Not gonna lie, I had a whole bunch of issues with this chapter - and I'm still not happy with it. But it's been way too long, and at the time of writing this, the Everlasting episode just aired (how cool was that, by the way?!) So...yeah. Here I am.

Disclaimer: I literally took a month writing this. Don't tell me it was all for naught. (AKA I don't own Blindspot.)

* * *

Jane fidgeted as she watched the sunlight dance off the glass windows of an office building. Her eyes went to the watch on her wrist.

Twenty minutes left.

 _How do I steal something?_ She wondered. She hadn't ever done this before alone - at least, not that she could remember. _Do I just...take it? Like what we did with Rich and the paintings?_ She had also stolen a truck from the CIA black site, but it was with permission (albeit forced), so...did that count?

 _Hey, focus,_ Remi ordered. _You get distracted, we lose more time._

 _We're not even there yet,_ Jane muttered, glaring daggers at the driver - who she swore must be the slowest driver Shepherd had. They had barely moved a block in the span of five minutes, and it wasn't New York traffic that was causing it. It was the man's hesitant foot.

 _Get out of the car,_ Remi urged. Jane was sure that if Remi was alive and real, she would have shot the man a long time ago. But since Jane was Jane - and an FBI agent - she couldn't exactly do that. Especially when Weller's team still didn't trust her, and even more importantly because she was going to be stealing something. She really didn't need another crime added to the growing list.

 _You don't think Shepherd will do something?_ Jane lowly inquired, but her hand was already moving for the lock on the door.

 _You've got nineteen minutes before someone dies,_ Remi informed her rather callously.

She took a deep breath, allowing herself to sink into the calculated mindset of Remi. _Okay, let's go._

In one smooth motion, Jane flicked the lock open, her body moving out of the car before her mind even registered she did. The car door slammed behind her as she weaved her way through traffic to get to the sidewalk, avoiding the security cameras.

 _Five blocks away from the safe,_ Remi murmured. And with that, Jane began to sprint, her mind whirling with _what if_ s. Who knew what sort of protection would be on that safe? A passcode? A combination lock? Patterson could crack those things in minutes, maybe even seconds - but Jane had never tried herself.

 _Speaking of Patterson..._ Jane frowned as she rushed past a bistro. _Where was she this morning? She wasn't there when I talked to Weller, but she was there when I needed paramedics for Roman -_

 _This is the safe,_ Remi interrupted. Jane slowed down to a casual walk, eyes darting around.

It was a small building, barely noticeable compared to the flashy designer stores and delectable coffee shops in New York. The peeling paint and rusting metal didn't give the appearance of protecting something important to a terrorist organization, but that was probably the point; no one would think to look here.

Jane tugged at the door, ignoring the screech the hinges made. Musty air assaulted her senses as she stepped inside, her eyes taking in the flickering lights and long hallway.

 _Safe number 112,_ Remi reminded her. _Second last one on the right._

She glanced at her watch as she jogged down the corridor. _Five minutes._

 _Move,_ Remi snarled.

The hallway seemed like it went on forever. Her pulse thundered in her ears, a twisted kind of internal clock that mocked her with its deep voice. Shoes pounded against the floor, a steady beat that taunted her over and over and over.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of the end of the hallway, and her gaze turned to count the safes. Locating her target, Jane stopped, examined the keypad next to it.

"Four-digit passcode," she read off the label. A sinking feeling ripped through her gut, her fingers refusing to type in the code that she instinctively knew Shepherd would use.

 _Murder her later,_ Remi snapped. _Type in that damned code!_

In response, Jane's fingers moved robotically, typing in the code 7364 with increasing dread. The automated door to the safe creaked open slowly, but Jane didn't have time to wait for it to open by itself - she yanked it open, her eyes drawn to the key lying innocently in the middle, an earpiece attached to it. A note accompanied it:

 _Contact me on this earpiece when done._

Jane had no doubt who she had to contact and wasted no time in putting the communication device in her ear.

"Shepherd," she spoke, a finger on the little device.

The earpiece crackled to life. "Jane, how wonderful to hear from you. You have the key, I presume?"

"Yes. And we have a deal."

"Ah, the deal. Ms. Turay is fine, bu - that reminds me. Jane, are you still in that building?"

Jane narrowed her eyes. That tone was deliberate, taunting. Briskly, she jogged back to the entrance of the building, body tense as she answered, "And if I am?"

"Then I'll let you know that the building is rigged and will blow in ten seconds," Shepherd replied lightly, as if she was discussing the weather rather than a building exploding and possibly killing the person she was talking to.

A jolt of shock and _I'mgoingtodie_ shot through the tattooed amnesiac, her hand dropping from the earpiece. Remi's instincts pushed her legs forward, forced her to calculate the quickest way out of the impending explosion's grasp.

 _I'm going to murder her the next time we meet,_ Jane growled as she raced through the building, heart thundering in her veins. The key clutched tightly in her hand gnawed at her palm and fingers, its sharp edges digging in like teeth.

 _She's a terrorist - it's her job to invoke those feelings,_ Remi remarked unhelpfully. _And you kind of walked into this one._

 _You're not helping!_

 _I'm sorry, what do you want me to do? Cheer you on? Give an inspirational speech?_

 _How about shutting up?_ Jane suggested, rocketing through the doorway of the building just as a _boom_ sounded behind her and heat scorched the air. The force of the explosion shoved her into the air and she tucked into a roll, coughing from the smoke billowing out the door and flaming roof.

Sirens sounded from a distance. _This is Shepherd's revenge, isn't it? To get me arrested for suspected arson and theft?_

 _Nothing better than arson and theft,_ Remi muttered sardonically. _If Shepherd wanted you arrested, she would have set up an indisputable first-degree murder charge, not_ arson _and_ theft _. God, that sounds like a terrible spy movie._

Jane scoffed at Remi's words, acknowledging that point. She touched a finger to the earpiece. "Got any more surprises?"

"Good, you're alive. I was just about to tell my men to pull the trigger on Ms. Turay," Shepherd informed her casually.

"That wasn't part of the deal," Jane snapped, frowning. Her other hand pulled her hood over her head.

"All you said was not to touch Ms. Turay until the thirty minutes were up. Technically speaking, I can harm Ms. Turay all I want now." A certain kind of gleeful victory coloured Shepherd's words.

"You harm her and this is over," Jane snarled, acutely aware of the sirens growing louder and louder. She began walking away from the remnants of the explosion, ducking into the crowds of people snapping pictures and chattering away.

"As far as I'm aware, I'm the one running this show," Shepherd retorted, her tone coated in malice. "And you, my dear daughter, are my actor."

"You're only holding one innocent as a bargaining chip?" Jane growled out disbelievingly, Remi's calculating mind taking over. "What, are you running short on hostages?"

"In your dreams, Jane," Shepherd replied sweetly. "Though, if you're quick enough, maybe I'll let you see the rest."

"What does that mean?" _That's right, keep falling into the trap._

Shepherd chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Jane stayed silent.

"There's a high-security vault ten blocks from your current location. The guards are expecting you - they'll let you into the vault. The passcode is the same. Oh, and you might need a truck," Shepherd relayed her instructions with military precision. "And Jane - the same conditions apply. Don't get caught, and you have a window of thirty minutes."

 _She really needs a lesson on password security,_ Remi muttered.

 _Mouth. Shut._ Jane ordered, mentally wincing at the number of crimes she was committing. _How far is rock bottom?_ She wondered as she purposefully strode to a truck parked on the street.

"What d'you got, Patterson?" Kurt asked as soon as the team set foot in the bullpen.

"Well, Rich has somehow escaped prison," Patterson answered succinctly as if it explained everything - which it kind of did. It was disturbing how often the team ran into Rich.

"Clearly," Reade muttered.

Patterson shot him a look before turning to Kurt and continuing, "There haven't been any other hits on him yet, so I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, a whole lot of BOLOs have been sent out for a person strongly resembling Jane - apparently, they've been stealing things."

"Whoa, wait, what?" Kurt frowned, shaking his head. _No way_ Jane was out stealing things - Sandstorm was still out and about, and Jane wasn't the type of person to risk going out with that kind of unchecked danger. Besides, Jane _stealing_?

"Look, Patterson, we're all a little wary of Jane, but there's no reason to -" Reade began, and Kurt felt a little knife stab into his heart as he heard the words.

"I'm not saying it's her, I'm just saying it resembles her -" Patterson defended, interrupting Reade.

"Patterson's right. Jane's not the same Jane that came out of a duffel bag - we all know that, and we all have a right to be wary," Zapata cut in, her smooth voice easily cutting through the others' words.

Patterson huffed out a breath. " _Again_ , I'm not saying it's her. There isn't a picture to tell if it's her or not; I'm just saying that the description matches Jane."

"No cameras have caught he - this person?" Kurt asked.

"No. They've got everyone looking, but no one can find her."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the elevator dinging.

The elevator doors opened, revealing an irate yet worried US Marshal.

"Allie?" Kurt asked gruffly, confusion colouring his tone. He strode to her, and the rest of the team stepped back to allow them some privacy. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing here, Kurt?" Allie snapped. "I'm worried about Jane."

"You should take it easy, alright? We've got it covered, thanks to your tip," Kurt said, obviously trying to provide some reassurance. Unfortunately, comforting people wasn't his strong suit, despite him being a federal agent and all, and trying to calm a pregnant woman was definitely not one of his talents.

"Obviously not, since most of your agents are running around like chickens with their heads cut off," Allie pointed out, seemingly on the verge of rolling her eyes.

Kurt opened his mouth to defend his office, glancing around, but paused. It was true. Most of the agents were trying to keep up with the BOLOs sent out for Jane ( _no_ , _unidentified woman_ , his brain corrected), plus trying to keep the public calm, plus attempting to coordinate with the NYPD - that all equalled a gigantic mess of agents.

"Okay, okay," Kurt muttered, seeing Allie's point. He wasn't about to interrupt them though; some of the agents worked better under pressure. Telling them all to calm down wouldn't help the situation.

"Look, I can help find Jane," Allie pressed, crossing her arms.

"No. No, Allie, you should head back to work like I told you to - you shouldn't have even made the trip here," Kurt flatly denied.

The fire in Allie's eyes nearly made him take a step back. "I am _not_ going to twiddle my thumbs when my friend is in obvious danger," she hissed, her tone spewing venom much like a snake. "So let me help, Kurt, or so help me, I will do it on my own."

Kurt paused for a second, and Allie nearly cheered in triumph. But then his mouth opened, and he said with a firm shake of his head, "No. I'm sorry, A, but we've got this covered, and there's no need for you to be here. When we find Jane, I'll let you know, but for now -" he signalled to the agents next to them, and two of them stood next to Allie, clearly ready to take her away, "- these lovely gentlemen are gonna escort you back."

Allie nearly punched him in his smug face. She glared at him, burning holes into his head, so tempted to ask _what had changed, why did he suddenly care for Jane when he had blatantly ignored her before_ , but she refrained. That was going too far, and even she knew it. So, with a fiery huff, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the elevator, nodding politely to the two agents accompanying her.

But as the doors closed, she turned back to the watching Kurt and gave him her best cold stare. She was inwardly pleased when he shrank back a little, but that soon gave way to worry for Jane. Her thoughts turned to the agents next to her. Perhaps some persuasion was needed…

Jane stared at the men in front of her, their hands going for their holsters. "You're not expecting me." It wasn't a question.

In a flash, she leaped forward and delivered a series of jabs and kicks, careful not to add manslaughter to her list of growing crimes. The security guards, though, didn't have any qualms attempting to taser her.

In between the flurry of fists and grappling, she wondered if Shepherd actually wanted her dead; it was starting to seem like her adoptive mother did. There had to be an endgame the leader of Sandstorm was heading toward, and based on the past hour, Jane was worried. There was no way for her to contact the team, no way for her to somehow alert someone, anyone - everyone would be caught unawares if Sandstorm decided to launch a surprise attack.

Everyone but her, implicating Jane's assistance. _No, not implicating. I'm as involved in this as a Sandstorm soldier with all of these thefts._

Her boot came up to knock the last guard unconscious. Jane's eyes flicked over the scene, ensuring that they were all unconscious before turning to the vault the men were guarding. Unlike the previous safe, this vault was pristine and screamed protection. She let her fingers punch in the numbers, allowing the door to open with a hiss. As her eyes adjusted, the glint of something caught her attention.

Diamonds.

Jane stared at the suitcases, one of which was open and showcasing the glittering contents. There must have been at least twenty suitcases in the vault - no wonder it was closely guarded.

 _Millions of dollars,_ Remi breathed. _Funds that could back Sandstorm for years._

A cold shock went down her spine. _Shepherd can't get her hands on these._

 _She can't,_ Remi agreed reluctantly. _But she's expecting a delivery of diamonds. So unless you want to lie and say you lost twenty-three suitcases of diamonds, contact someone._

Jane loosed a breath, acutely aware of the time ticking away. _How do you - ?_

The earpiece crackled to life, startling her. "I hope you're still in one piece, Jane."

"You knew the guards weren't expecting me," Jane ground out, valiantly trying to keep her tone steady and hard. Anger boiled in her gut, the fumes spreading throughout her body. She'd thought that a familial connection would keep her safe in this wild scavenger hunt, but she should have known that Shepherd didn't care much for her children. Not after both of them betrayed her.

"I knew you could handle them." An easy dismissal. "Bring your cargo back to our initial starting point in twenty minutes."

"I don't know where that is," Jane lied smoothly.

"I know you do. And I'm going to advise you not to lie to me again, or I alert the guards around Roman."

Jane's eyes narrowed, and Remi stewed with anger, unleashing a silent tirade of expletives aimed at Shepherd. The tattooed amnesiac couldn't help but agree with all of them. "Twenty-five minutes. I need to load the cargo."

There was a chilling pause that rang alarm bells before the crack of a gunshot snapped through the connection. A chorus of screams followed, setting the hairs on the back of Jane's neck on edge.

A second later: "Do you hear that, Jane? That's what happens when you bargain for time."

* * *

A/N: Enjoyed it? Nah? Ah well - I'm trying to get at least another two chapters done before the end of this week. As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks to those who have favourited, followed, and taken the time out of the day to write a review!

~Wolf and Phoenix


	11. The Cream is Laid, And Marked With Steam

A/N: Done! Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Blindspot.

* * *

It was Patterson that roused them from their focused state. "There's been a hit on the Jane doppelganger."

Immediately, the team stood and followed Patterson to the bullpen. Her words floated back to them as they neared the multitude of screens. "So this happened around three minutes ago - my software just picked it up now." The blonde pulled up footage from a security camera showing a hooded person nonchalantly loading suitcases into a truck. Once all twenty-three were loaded, a casual twist of the neck - a glance - was directed in the general direction of the camera, and the slim figure disappeared into the truck. Seconds later, the automobile was gone.

"Can you track the truck?" Weller asked, frowning at the footage. Whoever it was, they were doing a damn good job of keeping their face covered - yet, somehow, the body shape resembled the shots from the BOLOs sent out. His eyes tracked the figure's movements, comparing them to Jane's movements. It was a close match, but...not quite the same. He knew Jane's distinct way of getting around; it was confident, yet hesitant, strong but with a deceptive sense of vulnerability. A contradiction like Jane herself. These movements weren't hers - they were measured, emotionless, carrying a distinct sense of danger but also, strangely, blending in easily with the characteristic movements of the people bustling around.

Allie's voice floated into his mind. " _What do you think they did in there?"_

She was right, after all. The CIA could be brutal, and dealing with a person that could potentially expose their agency secrets through inked skin would probably bring out the agency's worst. His heart shuddered at the words, but there was nothing to be done now. Unless Keaton was still around to be strangled.

He gave himself a shake after contemplating the possibility, pulling out of his how-many-ways-can-I-kill-Keaton thoughts, and returned to the matter at hand. Jane wasn't the same Jane. He recalled saying that to Allie so, _so_ many nights ago, but somehow it didn't mean as much as it did now. Whatever he knew and was familiar with back when Jane was still a complete mystery was obsolete. Especially since he hadn't been paying attention to her for the past few weeks. He knew that and hated himself for it. He also knew that anybody could change after torture, even Jane - although no one had really acknowledged it until now, when they were all faced with trying to determine the identity of a Jane lookalike.

" - truck's got no license plate," Kurt tuned back in to hear.

"Yeah, but you can recognize the car by the grill and the model, right?" Reade asked. It almost sounded like he was pleading Patterson for something, anything. Maybe he was. Kurt himself felt a strange need to chase someone, tackle someone, maybe even arrest someone. It was...decidedly odd.

Patterson's reply held a note of frustration. "Probably, if the person would let me have a look at it." She blew out a breath. "I even tried zooming in on the tires, but they're replacement ones - not ones from the car manufacturer." The blonde tilted her head slightly, considering. "Although, it wouldn't be hard finding the truck on the road because of its missing license plate."

"No one's gonna address the fact that the person looked at the camera?" Zapata pointed out dryly. Kurt welcomed her sarcasm, if only to cut through the thoughts clouding his brain.

"Unless they wanted us to find them, n - " Patterson cut herself off, scrambling to type something into her tablet. The rest of the team shared a fondly exasperated look, recognizing that the tech had figured something out. The question was when she was going to share her findings with the rest of them.

A few minutes passed. Reade was subtly watching an agent play Minesweeper on their computer - normally he would have murmured a warning, but the guy looked so exhausted that the former couldn't blame him. Weller was busy staring into space, a scowl on his features; what he was thinking about, no one wanted to find out. Then again, Scowling McScowls was his Quantico nickname, so his expression didn't really amount to much. Zapata had settled for watching her brilliant coworker, a slight hint of worry surfacing on her exotic features when Patterson starting murmuring feverishly to herself.

With a pang after taking in the scene, Kurt realized that Jane would have simply smiled, an easy tilt of her mouth, perhaps chewing on a fingernail or standing with her arms crossed, content to just watch everything.

No. Not anymore.

Post-CIA Jane would have kept an eye on all of them, filing away anything interesting that could be used at a later date. She would move to the back of the group, stance tense, eyes hard, expression unreadable.

It hurt to think of that, he admitted to himself. It hurt to think of what had happened to Jane, to the team, to _Mayfair_. It hurt to think of anything these days.

It was several minutes later when Patterson finally spoke - or, rather, spoke loud enough to be heard. Zapata had been watching her murmurings with increasing worry and was relieved when her friend finally broke away from her quiet, hurried musings. She glanced over at the other two and saw Weller snap to attention and Reade moving his eyes away from an agent's screen (though, if she was being honest, she swore her partner was mentally debating whether or not to snatch a coffee from somewhere).

"Okay, so there are three cameras in the person's vicinity," Patterson began. "One of them is directly in front of the doppelganger, one is on the other side of the street, and the last one is behind." She pulled up the footage from all of them.

Zapata's brows furrowed. "If they wanted us to find them, why turn to the camera behind them?"

"Exactly," Patterson nodded. "So, I looked into anything that might be different about that one. Nothing really jumps out, until you look at the serial number."

A jumble of letters and numbers appeared on the screen. Kurt tilted his head slightly, as if that would help him understand whatever Patterson was hinting at. There was no obvious pattern, no strange anomaly - and besides, what kind of person just randomly knows a camera's serial number? He opened his mouth to say so but paused.

Jane would know.

Or rather, Remi would know.

"There was a whole lot of Sandstorm activity in that area," Kurt found himself saying, suddenly remembering reports from Nas' files. "No regular thief would know serial numbers unless they were involved with Sandstorm."

The rest of the team stilled. It was true - Sandstorm had once remotely hacked into the very cameras surrounding their Jane doppelganger years ago, before Jane had been found in Times Square. It was an unsolved hack until Nas brought the proof when she joined forces with the team.

"What's in that area?" Reade asked.

Patterson tapped away at her tablet, gnawing on her bottom lip. "Uh...a couple of bistros, hair salons, bakeries…"

"I'm asking for anything Sandstorm might be interested in, not a tourism brochure," Reade deadpanned.

"I'm sorry, did you want to do this?" Patterson shot back, giving her coworker a glare. Zapata noted that her fingers were still typing like they had a mind of their own.

A rough beep startled them all. The blonde glanced down at the tablet in her hands. "Got something. A storage facility - heavily guarded, state-of-the-art protection."

"Then the person we've been following is Sandstorm connected?" Zapata frowned.

"Or Jane," Weller interjected.

There was a split second pause. Patterson closed her eyes as if to shield herself from what might be coming next. "How do we know we can trust her, doing whatever she's doing?" Zapata suddenly demanded.

"If it was Sandstorm, there'd be a lot more casualties," Weller snapped, unable to keep himself calm. The torrent of emotion rose to the surface much faster than he was used to.

"We don't know if Jane's sided with them," Zapata began, her voice soft and dangerous. "We don't know if she's doing all these things of her free will. We don't know why, how, and when she decided to do this. We don't know anything, Weller, and we can't assume that she's with us!" Her words shook at the end - from emotion or something else - and the characteristic lilt of her voice was gone, replaced by something rough and more guttural.

Kurt could feel his pulse pounding in his head as he watched her lips move. The words of the Latina slipped into his mind, not making any sense until his brain snapped the answer out. "This is _Jane_!" His timbre thundered. The agents scurrying around stopped for a moment and stared before carrying on, deciding that their Assistant Director was being his normal self.

Kurt was unaware of this, however. "We assumed she'd turned on us almost a year ago, and now we're doing the exact same thing all over again. _I'm not going to be responsible for her second trip to a CIA black site._ "

"Mayfair is _gone_ , Weller, and that was all Jane. We had proof that she had turned!"

"What, so if any of us are trying to protect the team and end up with some bodies, we're going to assume that that person has turned?" The words felt acrid on his tongue, and he hated himself for saying it.

He hated himself even more when Zapata simply stared back at him, jaw slack. Kurt didn't need to look at the others to know that they all had similar expressions.

"Look," he said with a softer tone, "I'm not saying that Jane wasn't responsible, and I'm not saying that she is. But we can't assume things like we would on a tattoo case. Yes, Jane's done a lot of questionable things but she's also done a lot of good things, too. All I'm saying is that another bit of time at a black site will break anyone."

For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of guilt in Zapata's eyes, but it was gone so fast he almost told himself he imagined it. He knew he didn't. Kurt's gaze shifted to Reade, who looked thoughtful, considering. Patterson, the alpha male knew, wore an expression of worry and conflict on her features.

He sighed silently. Defending Jane was something he was used to when she first came on to the team. This...this felt like raging a war. Subtly, the man gestured for Patterson to speak, hoping that a change in focus would cool tempers. (Not that his own was any better.)

Patterson glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to her tablet, clearing her throat. "Okay, back to the serial number. If you isolate the numbers and remove every repeated number, you get this string of three digits - 324. The letters, when arranged backward and including the dash, spells out SOS-R."

"FBI, SOS, Remi," Zapata murmured, connecting the dots. "324 is a representation of FBI on a keypad."

"It's Jane," Weller breathed gruffly, exhilaration flooding through him. He was right. He was right, he was right, _he was right._ Jane hadn't turned.

Reade, though, remained skeptical - and, Weller supposed, the voice of reason, since the Assistant Director of the NYO was notorious for having a soft spot for Jane. "Yeah, but how many other cameras are out there with a similar message?"

"How many other cameras out there were purposely looked at?" Weller countered.

"Look, I'm not saying that it's not Jane, 'cause it could be," Reade began, emphasizing his dubious tone. "But there are hundreds of thousands of security cameras out there. And, what, a Jane doppelganger singles out one and we decide it's Jane?"

Furrowing his brows, Weller sighed. "We've got nothing else. But if it is Jane, however small of a chance that could be, we need to check it out."

* * *

Jane tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, ideas dismissed one after the other as she wove through traffic. Aware of the time ticking away, she gnawed on a fingernail at a red light, desperately searching her mind for some sort of leverage or trick she could use.

She needed to calm down, look at the facts. Fact: she was carrying twenty-three suitcases of diamonds. Fact: Shepherd wanted her to deliver them to that initial starting point. Fact: she now had thirteen minutes to make it there. Fact: Shepherd had multiple hostages. Fact: a note was left in the safe she had just emptied. Hopefully, the team wasn't too wary; maybe, just maybe, they'll make it to the point Jane was meeting Shepherd at. It'd take a whole lot of luck, but Jane had enough bad luck stored up to get the universe to take pity on her.

Hopefully.

There was a very, very slim chance that the team would actually go after her and follow the directions she had scribbled down. She wasn't stupid; she saw those wary looks and the blatant distrust among the team. She knew that they thought their partnership with her was a necessary evil - and that's all it was. Whatever rapport they had back then was lost.

 _Agonize about it later,_ Remi snapped. _If you want to keep those diamonds out of Shepherd's hands, think._

And so she did, not bothering to respond to the first part of Remi's comment. They'd had too many arguments over it as Jane had stared at the walls in her house so many lifetimes ago.

Thirteen minutes, Jane discovered as she pulled up to the meeting point, was quite short when frantically trying to outmaneuver a mastermind. It wasn't anything like the thrill of adrenaline shooting through her veins when defusing a bomb with a millisecond left; it was more like wading through a pool of molasses filled with sharks. Every second that went by tore at her consciousness.

Shepherd stood in front of the entrance of the building as Jane cut the engine, her heart sinking. Her mother's arms were crossed, tightly folded against her chest like a bulletproof vest.

The amnesiac left the vehicle and approached Sandstorm's leader. "We're moving," Shepherd informed her shortly.

Jane stilled. "Where?"

"I'll give you directions," was all her adoptive mother said as she brushed past, headed for the passenger seat. Jane mechanically followed.

The first thing that shot through her mind was a curse. The second was _where are the hostages?_ And the third was an overwhelming sense of resigned dread. The team - if they even found and followed the directions - would simply find an abandoned warehouse instead of Shepherd and a bunch of hostages. They'd probably think she really was working with Sandstorm and aim to capture her.

 _And Nas would send me back to the CIA._

"I hope you like hunting down defective hackers," Shepherd commented casually as Jane guided the truck down the road. "Especially ones captured by the FBI."

* * *

A/N: I wonder who the defective hacker(s) is/are? As always, thanks for following, favouriting and reviewing!

~Wolf and Phoenix


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